


better late than never

by makaronik



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Healing (Star Wars), Force Visions (Star Wars), Gen, Jedi Ahsoka Tano, Kyber Crystals (Star Wars), Lightsaber Construction (Star Wars), Lightsabers (Star Wars), Meditation, Post-Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28957830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makaronik/pseuds/makaronik
Summary: She’s pretty much given up, going on the defense, fighting with no other goal than survival. It’s getting harder not to sink into her grief and anger, not to let the voices that have been whispering at the edge of her awareness since she landed on this awful planet convince her to give in, and let it guide her. And then, all of a sudden the force sings in that beautiful, clear voice she hasn’t heard since her days at the temple, and leads her forward, hands her a lucky shot on a silver platter.or, what if Ahsoka won on Malachor
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano & Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 132
Kudos: 169





	1. A lucky shot

They’re alone in the collapsing temple, fighting violently, horribly. She feels it when Ezra and Kanan finally leave, their presence fading out of her consciousness when the Phantom takes off. It’s better this way, she thinks, as she dodges and parries Anakin’s blows. This is personal, it doesn’t concern them and however it ends it won’t be pretty. It’s her responsibility alone, and she won’t have them getting hurt trying to help make it right.

She can’t help but remember their sparring sessions, years ago. She can almost tell when he’d ease up, hold back, almost does it herself, once or twice, automatically, and it almost costs her her life. It’s sad to see him fight like this, none of the acrobatics she’s familiar with, nothing but brute strength and unrestrained power, a grim reminder that whoever she’s fighting, it’s not Anakin anymore. But that’s not true, not really, because she can see that same lazy smugness in his movements, can feel him in the force, twisted and wrong but still familiar, and she can see, through the crack in his mask, an eye, fixed on her with that same determination, whether in brilliant blue or foul yellow.

She’s pretty much given up, going on the defense, fighting with no other goal than survival. It’s getting harder not to sink into her grief and anger, not to let the voices that have been whispering at the edge of her awareness since she landed on this awful planet convince her to give in, and let it guide her. She’d probably win if she did, if her strikes were just a touch more vicious, less controlled. But what would be the point then. She’s stayed in the light through horrors that no one person should ever have to experience, through almost two decades of constant fighting, and giving all of that up for nothing but revenge seems absurd. 

She puts some space between them, gets as close to the wall as she can, while still avoiding the stones falling down, and tries to center herself, grabs desperately, with both hands, at the faint flickers of light she can feel even here, on this planet dark to its very core, then charges at him again. 

And then, all of a sudden the force sings in that beautiful, clear voice she hasn’t heard since her days at the temple, and guides her forward, hands her a lucky shot on a silver platter.

She blocks him with her off hand and somehow manages a glancing blow to his wrist with the other. He drops his lightsaber, and before he can call it back, she swings straight into a wide kick, one that would have sent him flying, back in the day. Now he’s a tank, and the force slows around him, lazy, like how all life stops at cold enough temperatures, so he barely stumbles a few steps back. A few steps is enough though, or just right even, since a stone from the ceiling falls straight on his head and knocks him out. 

He goes down with a clatter of groaning metal like a collapsing ship, and it’s so painfully anticlimactic that she stands there frozen for a moment, lightsabers still raised, panting, adrenaline coursing through her veins, telling her to move, to fight. What now? 

She did say she wasn’t going to leave him this time and that’s as good a place to start as any, especially since if they stay any longer in the crumbling temple, his promise is going to come true instead.

She picks up his lightsaber, without knowing why, but very sure that she should, then drags him back to her ship, endlessly thankful that she took it, instead of going with Ezra and Kanan. 

She has force inhibiting cuffs here, all different makes, some stolen from inquisitors, some of the kind used by pirates and bounty hunters during the war, now all but obsolete, and therefore cheap and easy to find, and one pair of Mandalorian origin, antique, but almost unbreakable even after centuries gathering dust in a museum. She’s been collecting them to make it harder for anyone else to get their hands on them, hadn’t really expected to need them, but she’s thankful now, as she locks them on him, two pairs each on his wrists and ankles. This is unprecedented and she’s not going to take any chances, won’t lose this gift from the universe by being sloppy. 

She looks over his suit carefully, destroying any communication devices, anything that could be used as a tracker, while trying to avoid damaging the life support as much as she can. Well, at least trying to avoid damaging it any more than a lightsaber to the face already did. 

Once she’s sure she won’t get murdered as soon as she turns her back on him, or survive just to be found by the empire, she sits down at the console, and gets them off planet just in time, as the temple and all the caves around it collapse completely. 

“What now?” she asks, again, because she can’t exactly take him back to the base. If high command were to hear of this, they’d probably try to put him on trial, or something else pointless and bureaucratic, and she definitely doesn’t want him anywhere near Ezra, especially after she’s seen how easily Maul managed to manipulate him. And Kanan… Well he’s trying, and succeeding more often than not, but he doesn’t have nearly as much experience as her, and besides, he has bigger problems right now. No, she’s going to have to handle this alone. 

_Not alone_ , she hears, whispered in her ear. 

“Where should I go then? Who else is left?”

But the force, for all that it feels awake and curious after over a decade of restless slumber gives no reply, just dances on her fingers. 

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She closes her eyes and lets it guide her fingers over the controls, engages the hyperdrive. 

She hears him start to stir, so she knocks him out again, missing absentmindedly the days when military grade sedatives were easily accessible. On the other hand a smack on the bucket with the force and a random piece of equipment is the least he deserves, she thinks, as she sits down on the floor in front of him.

Meditation always came easier to her, and as much as he’d never admit it, she’d done most of the guiding whenever they found the time to meditate together during the war. She tries to find her balance, to push away at least some of the frantic, wounded feelings brought back just by being near him. Once she’s feeling a bit less unstable she opens her mind just a crack, trying not to fight the wave of nausea that comes with the dark energy rolling off him. He wasn’t ever especially good at it, but now it’s like he’s not shielding at all, messy, violent emotions pouring out in a constant flood, making it just as hard to tell what’s actually going on in his head as proper shields. 

She doesn't try to calm it, feels it would be as pointless and dangerous as trying to extinguish a forest fire with her own blood. Instead she takes a deep breath and for the first time in years turns towards the ragged stump at the edges of her mind where their bond used to be. She centers herself, lets her fear flow through her and away, and walks slowly along that thin thread, past the end into the darkness, towards him. It gets harder with each step, like wading in deep water, but she doesn’t fight it, focused on the light within her, and tries to slip past unscathed. The anger, the pain, the endless, festering boredom he’s wrapped in are suffocating but finally, after an eternity she sees that familiar broken thread again, matched to her own, and she feels him now, instead of that awful impersonal dark. She can remember with awful familiarity how his sudden bursts of anger, or despair at losing another soldier battered at her shields back in the day, but then it was always an instant, quick outbursts fading into his normal mischief and determination. Now the rage stretches in one long false note, but she can’t pretend it’s anything else because she’d know him anywhere. It’s getting impossible to walk so she stretches her hand out, further and further, the crushing pressure around her painful and then, at last her fingers brush against the thread that used to connect them, tangle in the shredded edges and hold on tight as she lets herself be pulled back into her body, into her mind, joining them once again. 

It’s worse now. It’s so much worse that she almost regrets it. The cold is seeping inside her mind, like a headache after not sleeping for days, impossible to block or push away. But now she can send a calming breath towards him, a suggestion of peaceful sleep. As much as she wants to throw all of her own pain, all her angry questions at him, as much as he deserves all of it, she knows that won’t help, and what is fair doesn’t really matter all that much right now, compared to what is kind, and hopeful. 

She gets up to check the coordinates of the hyperdrive against her map to make sure they won’t fly into a black hole. Tattooine. Strange, she thinks, before settling deeper into a trance to get as much rest as she can, while still keeping him asleep and harmless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing a fic without having it mostly planned out, but it might be fun to do something other than my usual one shots, or the carefully plotted 3 chapter anidala fixit I've been working on for two months. I do have the next couple chapters outlined or partly written, but after that your guess is as good as mine.
> 
> I have exams for the next two weeks, but I kept getting distracted and working on this instead, so I decided to post one chapter, so I can hopefully move on and focus on what I'm actually supposed to be doing. The next chapter should show up around two weeks from now, but I don't intend to have any kind of schedule for this, since deadlines kill my motivation completely.
> 
> I'll be adding more tags as I go along, because I know how annoying it is to find a multichapter fic tagged with a character, only to find they're not there yet.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @transmalewife


	2. A cup of tea

Obi-Wan wakes up that morning groggy and too hot, like every morning on this force forsaken planet. He walks out of his tiny bedroom, eyes still mostly closed and makes a beeline for the kitchenette to start on his tea. Well, not exactly his tea. He hasn’t tasted a proper blend in years, instead he drinks an infusion of a local plant with cooling properties, which is decent enough when sweetened but very much not the same thing. He rubs at his eyes trying to remember what mindless (pointless) improvements to his living space he had planned for that day and finally turns around. And almost goes straight back to bed. 

Tucked away in a corner, where the sunlight from the small windows doesn’t reach this early, is Ahsoka. Tall and imposing and weathered by age but unmistakably herself. He’d run to hug her or reprimand her for even coming here if not for the fact that right beside her, slumped against the wall is a heap of mangled black metal. He's not sure how he could have missed the harsh, mechanical breathing, or the bone-deep cold leaching into the force. How he could have missed any of this. Nothing happens these days without him knowing it beforehand, but that might be mostly because nothing happens to him at all. 

She’s sitting cross legged, somewhere between deep meditation and sleep, a state he’s familiar with from the war, when most nights falling fully asleep was a luxury they couldn’t afford. It’s never occurred to him before but she wouldn’t have had the chance to leave that behind, unlike him who has little to do now other than sleeping. Both her hands are resting on Vader's head, face scrunched up in concentration, probably keeping him asleep. That’s good. That means he has some time to figure this out.

He turns back around to boil water for another cup, and by the time the tea’s done he still hasn’t figured anything out. As he walks closer, the fragrant steam brings Ahsoka back to consciousness.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says without opening her eyes, “mind taking over for a while? I'd rather talk to you before he wakes up and with any more blunt force trauma we’re risking a concussion.” Which again, he clearly deserves but they both know what he was like with a concussion and that’s not going to make whatever she has planned any easier.

Once Obi-Wan sits down, puts his hands right above Vader’s helmet, wary of touching him, and starts working on the cocoon of sleep she has wrapped around him, Ahsoka stands up gracefully, one of her knees cracking a bit. She stretches to her full height, palms flat against the ceiling and she’s definitely much taller than him now. She picks up the cup of tea, drinks most of it in one gulp, then launches into a series of stretches. He almost can’t believe how bright, how alive the force seems around her, swirling gently with her movements, guiding her limbs through the same stretches he still does whenever he wants to feel at home in his body, the absolute basics taught at the temple from early childhood. 

“Why did you come here Ahsoka,” he says, when the silence drags on, “you know it’s too dangerous.” This isn’t what he imagined he’d say to her if they ever got to meet again, but then again, nothing about this situation is how he imagined it would go.

“Well, things are a bit different now, wouldn’t you say?” She doesn’t look pointedly at Vader, because she doesn't need to.

“How did you even pull this off?” He asks, after a deep sigh and another long silence.

“I got lucky.”

“Ashoka…”

“I don't know, honestly. That’s not really important though. What do we do now?”

“Well I’d assume you have a plan seeing as you’re the one who brought him here.” He knows he’s being stubborn, but any joy that seeing her brought is overshadowed by the unsettling cold and metallic breathing he can’t ignore now that he’s noticed it.

“We have to help him.” 

“Can we? Do you really think anyone could?” He’s been asking himself that same question for so many years and for a moment he hopes she’ll have a clear and obvious answer.

“We have to try. I don’t think you’re appreciating how big this is.” She stops stretching, looks in his eyes for the first time. “We’re out there every day fighting for our lives, losing lives, and it barely makes a dent. We bring food to a town and they burn it down. We steal their weapons and they just make worse ones. Our entire fleet couldn't stand up to what they send against a single planet. And if we somehow, despite all that, manage to pull it off, they just send more. This is nothing like the war. We don’t have an army, there’s no rules to follow, no backup to call. No way to negotiate. It’s just whoever is insane enough to fight with us against this endless giant, and if you fail you die. If you win, half the time you still die. I honestly don’t know how we’ve managed to keep it up this long, but this. This could finally give us a fighting chance.”

She pauses, like she expects him to say something, but he can’t. He’s spent fifteen years trying not to think about this, seeking out any news of the rebellion he can get his hands on, then trying to forget them immediately so they don’t tempt him. He has a duty, he chose it himself, and he can’t abandon his post. Or maybe he is a coward. Maybe he’s just a tired old man who’d rather rot in his own regrets, so he can avoid taking any responsibility. 

When Ahsoka realises he’s not going to say anything and starts talking again, her voice isn’t as strong anymore, now she just sounds tired and desperate.

“We can’t just send him back and I know I can’t do this alone. The temple we fought in collapsed. Everyone will think we’re both dead, at least for a while. That gives us a chance to actually do something. To end this nightmare once and for all.”

“What can we do?” 

“I don't know Obi-Wan, I assumed you’d help me with that. What were you doing all these years if not figuring out why this is happening , how to stop it?” She’s getting angry now, and if not for the awful circumstances he’d probably smile at how much she still sounds like that defiant teenager he’s been trying not to forget for years. “I thought you were too busy to help the rebellion for a reason.”

“I was. I am still.”

“We need you. I needed you.”

“I know. I'm... I'm sorry Ahsoka, I truly am.”

She turns around, but he knows, from the measured, but shaky breath she takes that she’s trying not to cry, and that’s what finally forces him to look past his own guilt and all the justifications he’s made over the years for staying here and make a decision. 

“We’ll figure this out, padawan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make excuses for how short this is, because it was originally meant to be about half of this chapter, I only cut it cause I reached a nice moment to break, but apparently it turned out longer than the first one so I guess it's fine.


	3. A wake up call

Obi- Wan watches Ahsoka finish her tea in silence, then pretend to drink it for a while longer, then finally turn to face him. 

“He’s still in there you know,” she starts. He's not sure that's true, but she certainly seems to believe it, “I need to go get some things from my ship, that gives you a chance to try and find him.”

“How?” How can she see anything through all that hate, how can she expect that from him?

“I… I restored our bond.”

“You what? Why would you do something so reckless?”

“It’s helped me keep him calm for this long. Besides, this isn’t about us anymore. I am prepared to do a lot more to fix this. I have done a lot more already, and it’s time you did too.”

He’s not going to correct her, because she isn’t wrong, but she doesn’t have the whole story and he’s not sure how to tell her, or if he even should, especially now. 

“I don’t have to,” he says instead.

“Of course you don’t have too, I'm saying you should,” and there’s that righteous anger again. He lets out a deep sigh, and he’d forgotten how exasperating dealing with her can be. Dealing with both of them, because even though he’s not convinced there’s much of Anakin left, she clearly is and she’s acting like she always did when defending him against Obi-Wan’s more sanctimonious ideas.

“No, I mean I really don’t need to. We’re still connected.” That shuts her up, at least for a moment.

“Oh… that’s. How did you manage all these years?” She asks, once she finds her words again.

“Well the cold certainly didn’t hurt, living here.” It comes out almost unintentionally, but when she lets out a small, sad laugh it hits him how much he’s missed this. Jedi are pack animals after all, and he hasn’t had a chance to just casually joke about the force in so long. To just talk about it at all, because as much as he’s grateful for the cryptic guidance he occasionally gets from Qui-Gon, as much as he misses him now that he’s been showing up less and less often, this is different. It makes him feel awake again, not like a relic of a long dead religion, but a real sentient with emotions and friends. She’s still looking at him in shock though, so he continues. 

“I’ve shielded. Not just me, this whole place.”

“You mean what, the house?”

“No, the whole area. From Mos Eisley to the Dune Sea.” 

He’d spent the first few years walking the perimeter over and over, weaving Soresu forms and moving meditation into walls, channeling all his aimless energy. He didn’t know if it was even possible when he first started, something like that was usually only done around temples, by tens, or even hundreds of Jedi working in tandem, but he’s confident in his work. He’s not sure how it’ll hold up now that the very thing he was shielding against is here, but it must mean something that the force let them through at all. At least the emperor won’t sense them immediately when Vader wakes up. Hopefully. 

“You’re protecting something. That’s why you’re here isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“But you won’t tell me what?”

“I can’t. Not yet.” He still isn’t sure why she’s here, if this is even a real way forward or just a test. A part of him is half convinced this is all just a vision. It certainly wouldn’t be the strangest one he’s had over the years. But vision or no, it seems it’s time for a change, and being stubborn never works well against the will of the force.

He can feel her reeling with questions. The bond they’d formed during the war is getting stronger with proximity. And although it was never good for anything more than communicating the simplest “duck!” or “quiet”, they never got to spend enough time together to build anything stronger, it’s still there even after all these years, and so he can feel when she lets it go.

“Fine. Keep him asleep until I come back.” She moves towards the door, then stops “If you have any commlinks or transmitters it might be better to leave them on my ship for now.” They’ve both seen Anakin send long distance transmissions with nothing but a dismembered mouse droid and half a trooper’s helmet, but hopefully the cuffs will slow him down enough for this to suffice.

“There’s a comm in the cupboard near the window, and a datapad on the table.” He watches out of the corner of his eye as she rummages through the drawer full of junk and fishes out his old army issue wrist comm, turned off permanently, kept more as a souvenir than anything else, then walks out without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could take the few free days I have now to write a few chapters ahead and post them on a schedule later, instead of putting everything out at once, then inevitably going silent when i have less time to write, but I'm desperate for comments first, human second so here we go.
> 
> 18.02.2021 edit: I fixed some POV weirdness in the first few lines.


	4. An old friend

It’s a pretty thing, her ship, or at least it used to be. Small, built for short and fast trips more than anything else. A few cots set into the walls, a tiny kitchen area, and something that’s more of a closet than a proper cargo hold. It used to be luxurious, but it had already been more outdated than antique by the time of the war, and it’s been modified countless times since. It’s perfect for her. No one expects a flashy collector’s ship to have decent guns, much less a great pilot, and the fact that it looks almost painfully civilian only strengthens the ruse. And it’s the closest thing she’s had to a home for years now.

She goes to the ‘fresher as soon as she gets there. She’s fought five redblades and had a sith temple collapse on her since the last time she saw a shower, to say nothing of her deep dive into Anakin’s tortured psyche, and she reeks of the dark side. Once she finally feels clean again, less unsettled in her own body, she starts running the usual scans, preparing the ship for a long stay, locking everything down to protect it from Jawas. She eats the few perishables she has in the conservator, packs the rest. She gathers up two bedrolls because she can’t imagine Obi-Wan has overnight guests very often and she’d rather not spend another night sitting on the floor. 

When she finally runs out of mundane activities she’s forced to confront what she really came here for. Anakin’s lightsaber is on the copilot seat, where she’d left it last night. She didn’t want to risk him taking it off her when she was dragging him a mile across the desert. She’d been surprised at how quickly she got back to her ship now, because it had felt like an eternity the other way, another reminder of how different things were. By the end of her apprenticeship she could just throw him over her shoulder and carry him out of danger when needed, the force flowing from him and helping her, even when he was unconscious, but now… The armor is heavy, sure, but it had felt like she was carrying all the horrors of the empire along with him. Every little mistake, every regret, all the pain pouring off him dragging against the sand like debris slowing down a ship in atmosphere. She’s not sure she would have made it if not for the force shining faintly in the distance, guiding her towards that presence she hadn’t felt for years, that she couldn’t let herself hope was really Obi-Wan until she saw him. 

She couldn’t help but think of the last time they spoke “Tell Anakin-” 

“I will,” he’d cut her off before she could finish. 

She still wasn’t sure what she’d wanted to say. I love him? Of course she did, but she’d never say it out loud, much less through Obi-Wan. He’d probably only passed on cold, impersonal mission information, probably felt he was letting her maintain her Jedi detachment, leaving the door open for her to come back later. But she’s always wondered. What if that could have been the one thing that prevented all this. What if he’d let her finish, what if she’d called Anakin and said it herself. “I need your help. I need you here, safe, with me, because we are family.” What if… she doesn’t let herself dwell on it. She never does, or she’ll break down completely. Still, every night she sees the thousands of moments when a tiny change, a kind word, a lucky shot maybe, just maybe, could have saved the world. 

But he couldn’t have come. She wouldn’t have asked. And besides it was already too late, even then. The more she thought of it, the more she could see that it had always been too late, and at the same time, completely fine, until the very moment it wasn’t.

She’d spend hours meditating every day those first few years, instead of eating, sleeping, she’d try to accept what had happened and release her feelings into the force. But no matter how much she tried, no matter if she sat lost in a deep trance until Rex had to bring her back with a sad smile and a warm meal, to force her to keep herself alive, the pain and guilt would just buble up again. 

Every time she thought she'd dealt with a single issue: Anakin, the clones, the council, and moved past it, it would come right back when she tried to meditate on something else, all connected in a horrible web of pain, everything somehow her fault. But then, almost imperceptibly it slowed down to a trickle, until she could breathe on a good day, could walk and live and even sometimes smile without breaking. Sometimes it still came in a torrent, drowned her in anger, made her feel powerless, useless, though it was rare these days. But she never really took the time to process those feelings, never got to talk them through with anyone, Rex too angry at the betrayal, the chips, all of it, for her to risk hurting him more by bringing it up. Instead she’d learned to just let them pass through her and away into the force. It’s become second nature to her, a carefully walled off stream of guilt and wasted hope running steady and constant at the edges of her consciousness. It’s probably why it hit her so hard when she felt Anakin again. It broke all her dams, all her coping mechanisms went from not much more than a mental exercise to a very real test of strength within moments, and she’s still scrambling to rebuild them, now with the added challenge of his presence attached to her, like a constant pull on her lekku.

By the time she’s managed to come back to the present the suns are at their highest and walking through the desert at noon is never a good idea. She grabs the lightsaber, feeling that familiar flicker again, and sits down on the floor to meditate on that. She takes a moment to calm her mind, push away all the distracting emotions, and turns it around in her hand. It’s not the same handle he’d used when she was younger, but the weight and built is similar. She’d been familiar enough with it that the small differences stand out to her immediately, she’d used it more than a few times herself. In fact, she’d first gotten the idea to focus on Jar’Kai and build a second blade for herself after a mission went horribly long, and she’d gotten trapped with an unconscious Anakin, surrounded by rapidly approaching droids. She’d never have managed to hold them off long enough for reinforcements to arrive if she hadn’t used his lightsaber and whatever she remembered from the absolute basics of Jar’Kai taught to all younglings. 

But the familiarity runs deeper than the casing, and so she lets the saber float in front of her, closes her eyes and tries to see past it. At first she just feels that same dark cold again, but then she realises it’s different. The pain is still there, but there’s no hate, just a deep, suffocating sadness, and instead of rage she feels betrayal, resentment. But still it pulls her in further until suddenly her eyes shoot open. It can’t be. She lets the handle drop into her hand and ignites it. It is. It’s her own crystal, the first one she ever found all these years ago on Ilum. She gasps at how wrong and twisted it feels, unsettled by the red light flooding the cabin, a horrible deja vu to the time he gave it back to her “a little better”. But as she moves the blade around in basic forms there’s no mistaking it for anything else. It listens to her like no other weapon has since, still connected.

She extinguishes it, and rips at the casing with the force, furious, nothing like the round, sweeping movements that disassembling a lightsaber usually entails. She doesn’t want to disassemble it though, she wants to kriffing destroy it, and Vader too, for hurting it. Once she's surrounded with ripped scraps of metal, and the crystal is floating free in front of her, she takes a moment to calm down. The only way she has to destroy Vader without destroying herself at the same time, is to save Anakin. She takes a deep breath and drops the crystal into the palm of her hand, where it almost burrows into her palm, spreading a chill of resentment up her arm, like being slowly buried in cold snow, like being picked up by an even colder hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another half chapter that stretched to full lenght, so Vader's nap is dragging on, but force knows he needs it.
> 
> Also, shameless self promo, but if you want to read how I see Malachor going if Ahsoka hadn't dealt with her feelings as well as she did here, I have a short fic about that https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825311


	5. A new friend

By the time she gathers up her strength and leaves, the suns are slowly descending towards the horizon. Then a third one appears next to them. It takes her a moment of squinting against the light to realise it’s a person, approaching on a speeder bike, the blinding glow not visual, but their force presence. I can’t be another lost Jedi, she doesn’t feel that grief they all have, the homesickness for the temple, but there’s something familiar in their signature, how it feels like a warm hug from a long-lost friend the closer they get. She waves them over instinctually, only remembering later that these days you can’t trust someone just because they have the force, that she has all these rules, defences for a reason and it’s alarming that she could forget them that easily. But their signature is so pure, so bright she doesn’t have any doubts about trusting them. 

Apparently they don’t either because they immediately change direction, and quickly come to a stop next to her. It’s a teenager, and she’s never been good at guessing humans' ages but he can’t be much older than Ezra. She hopes Ezra and Kanan made it out, that they’re fine, and the uncertainty is distracting, but she can’t risk contacting them.

“I’m looking for Ben, have you seen him?” says the sun.

“Ben… Kenobi?” She asks, remembering the codename Obi-Wan used sometimes.

“Yes. I have something for him from my aunt,” he says, pointing to a basket attached to his bike.

“He’s not at home right now,” she lies, but she can’t exactly invite him in, “I’m a friend of his, I could give it to him?”

“Isn’t the whole point of being a hermit not having friends?” And now she can see why he seemed so familiar. It’s that same cautiously kind tone Padme would use when meeting strangers.

“He wasn’t always a hermit, you know,” she laughs, and he still seems unsure, but unties the basket anyway.

“I’ll be sure to tell him you came by,” she says, then, again on pure instinct, adds, “you could come back in a few days, he should be home by then.” And she has no idea where they’ll hide Anakin then, but she’s curious how someone this powerful could have evaded the empire this long, when it doesn’t seem he’s had any training at all, from the wild, untethered shine of the force around him. That seems to convince him at last, and he hands her the basket.

“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” she adds, hyperaware that she should not be giving her name to strangers, that even if without ill intent, he could still put her in danger just by telling the wrong person she’s here, but the force runs a reassuring touch down her back, and she has to lean on it for support when he answers, with a toothy grin.

“I’m Luke Skywalker, nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope none of you are getting used to these daily updates, because my classes start again on monday and I won't be able to keep this up much longer.


	6. A suggestion

She’s still feeling a bit unstable by the time she gets to the hut and drops her bags on the floor. The basket is filled with a couple jars of homemade jam, some spare parts, and fresh flatbread, and she rips off a piece and bites in, the soft warmth grounding her in reality.

Obi-Wan nods at her in greeting, still sitting in front of Anakin, his old lightsaber floating between them. She gives him a questioning look. 

“I thought if I could connect him to something that still remembers the real Anakin, he might… I don’t know, remember himself.” 

She hums around a mouthful of bread, feeling the cold press of her own corrupted crystal burning a hole in her pocket.

“Did it work?” She asks.

“I’m not sure.” He finally turns his head to look at her, and whatever he sees in her face makes him put the saber down.

“What happened? You look troubled,” and she honestly doesn’t know where to start, but she really doesn’t want to get angry thinking about crystals again, or this whole situation, so she asks about something she knows he’ll have the answers to.

“I met Luke.”

“Ah. His aunt sends him a few times a year with some food, probably to check if i’m still alive.”

“That’s… sweet.” And not at all what she wanted to know.

“Well it’s probably half because she’s worried, half because she just wants my vaporator.”

“He’s Anakin’s son right? And Padmé’s?” There’s no point beating around the bush, if he’s just going to avoid the topic.

“Yes.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Apparently she’s gonna have to drag the answers out of him. It’s infuriating that he still does this. The war is over, the council is gone, there aren’t levels of clearance he has to respect when sharing information, he’s just being stubborn.

“I can’t believe you’re not training him. He’s what, sixteen? And he’s never used the force?”

“There are ways to use the force without knowing it.” 

“Yes, and they’re easy to lose control of. What are you even doing here, if not teaching him?”

“Protecting him, keeping him safe.” Of course, because performing unprecedented feats of warding is better than having a conversation. She can relate to the feeling, not wanting to relive old pain, but this is taking avoidance to a whole other level.

“He’d be safer if he knew how to defend himself.” That shuts him up, has him turning back to Anakin, because he must know she’s right, and she almost thinks the conversation is over, when he speaks again, quietly.

“It can’t be me. I’ve failed once and look where it got us.” And that is a fair point, but it’s also irrelevant in their current situation.

“If not you, then who?” 

He looks back up at her, eyebrows raised.

“Oh no, no way.” 

“I was actually thinking master Yoda, but now that you mention it...” he says, and how dare he suggest that with a smile, how dare he ignore the problem for a decade and a half, then try to put that responsibility on her. Although, if he wants someone who’s never had an apprentice turn to the dark, she might be the only person alive that’s qualified for the job. Kriff.

“I’m not a Jedi.” She’s been saying that so often recently it’s starting to feel more like a mantra than a fact. 

“Who says he has to be. Besides if you wanted to I could knight you. I could probably even make you a master, after all you only need half the council's approval, and I am currently half the council,” he answers with a humorless chuckle, that she mirrors with a surprised one of her own. “Well, possibly one third,” he adds with a nod of his head at Anakin.

“Wait, Anakin was on the council? When did they make him a master?” And why doesn’t she know these things?

“They didn’t.” 

“Oh, of course they didn’t.” The council always loved making exceptions around him, but only when it would make him resent them more. 

“It only lasted a few days. He was appointed by Palpatine, right before...” And just like that all the humor is gone from the room. 

She sits chewing the bread in silence, thinking about absolutely nothing to avoid thinking about everything. It’s so easy to forget herself, to sink into the comforting presence of Obi-Wan, to joke around like nothing’s changed, but it’s even easier to break that atmosphere with just one word. But it’s also easy to bring it back, to cling to it despite everything, when he drops the subject and says:

“You know, I think there’s some stew in the kitchen that would go well with that bread.”

She gets up to find it, starts heating it up on the stove, and like that, with her back turned, without overthinking it, she can ask him:

“Could you really? Make me a knight, I mean.”

“Of course. But are you sure you want that?” 

“I… I don't know yet. I’ve spent so much time running from being a Jedi, but now I see that everything that pushed me away is gone.” And she would never say it out loud, but it’s probably gone at least in part because she ran. It doesn’t feel like a victory at all. 

“Ahsoka, I know you never got to be a proper Jedi, just a soldier. But now? I don’t think there’s anyone left who’s more of a Jedi than you.”

She doesn’t answer, just stirs the stew. She knows he meant it as a compliment, but with all that guilt fresh in her mind it feels like an accusation.

“You’ve been actually helping people,” he continues, “fighting for what’s right, instead of stagnating, waiting for better times.” She should introduce him to Kanan one of these days, but she gets the point. ”For what it’s worth, I’d be honored to knight you, if you wanted.” 

“I’ll have to think about it. But thank you for giving me that option.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bunch of tired middle aged people playing hot potato with the responsibility of being the last jedi
> 
> I just found out I might have to drop out of uni for the third fucking time, so instead of dealing with that, i'm posting another chapter. I have the next few written, so I'll try to space the updates out from now on. Let's say saturday for the next one, and then we'll see.


	7. A meal

“Well come on then,” says Ahsoka, once the soup is hot.

“What about...” asks Obi-Wan, with a vague nod in Anakin’s direction.

“We have to wake him up sooner or later anyway, and he has to eat too.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure...”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d have thought the suit takes care of that.”

“Well even if it did, it probably won’t work now. I’ll wake him up, I don’t know where you keep the bowls anyway.” The dissonance is almost funny, talking about tableware and the sith lord who killed the galaxy in the same sentence. Obi-Wan gets up once she comes closer, and she kneels down, shakes Anakin’s shoulder gently, but he doesn’t wake up. She worries for a moment that she did really give him a concussion.

“Anakin. Anakin, wake up.”

“That’s not my name,” he answers, voice rough, the damaged vocoder echoing behind it. She winces at the sharp, curious pluck he gives their newly restored bond, a false note ringing out in her head. He opens his eye, looks around the room until he finds Obi-Wan.

“Hello, traitor,” he says, and before she can step in Obi-Wan answers.

“Do you really believe that? Have you truly forgotten what happened?”

He ignores it when he sees his old lightsaber.

“You kept it.” He sounds just as cold and vicious as he feels, “I’m touched.” 

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she says, before she can stop herself. Obi-Wan sends her a question mark through their bond, but she shakes her head. Not now. At least Anakin has the decency to feel ashamed then, a wave of slimy embarrassment flooding their bond. She takes a deep breath, lets out both his shame and her anger on the exhale.

“There’s food,” she says instead.

“I don’t want it.”

“I told you he wouldn’t. He’s more machine than human by now,” Obi-Wan intejects.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before cutting all my limbs off.”

“You did what?” she asks, horrified, “all of them?”

“All the ones I had left. Although I imagine he feels too guilty about it to brag.” There’s a disturbing wheezing in his voice, the damaged mask can’t keep up now that his breath is getting faster with anger.

“You gave me no other choice.”

“You should have killed me then, instead of walking away like a coward.” They don’t get to hear what Obi-Wan would have said to that, because the wheezing dissolves into a coughing fit, that doesn’t stop, getting worse the longer it goes on. She puts a hand on his throat, trying to feel what’s wrong, and he flinches back, like he thinks she’s gonna hurt him.

“Let me help you,” she says, somewhere between pleading and an order.

“I don’t need your pity,” he manages to choke out, but she can see his eye is watering and his breath is getting more and more shallow. She presses her other hand against his chest, closes her eyes trying to feel out the damage. His lungs are ripped to shreds, but when she tries to send healing energy, a black smoke fills them, undoing all her progress. 

“Why haven’t you fixed this? I know you can, I’ve seen you heal worse,” she asks, trying not to let the panic show in her voice, but the smoke is crawling up her fingers now, numbing them with cold.

“He can’t. The dark side cannot heal. It destroys everything, including the bodies of those who give into it,” Obi-Wan answers instead, standing over them, stew forgotten.

“Then help me!” She almost shouts. He was always better at this than either of them. She only knows the basics, learned to mend broken bones and wounds in battle, a quick and messy fix until she could get to a medic. Obi-Wan on the other hand had spent enough time in the temple as a padawan to learn from the healers, and countless times during the war he’d shake his head at both of them and go over their wounds again with a cool touch, healing them properly. Now he hesitates, until she sends him an angry, desperate look, and he kneels next to them, putting his hands over hers. And there it is, that cool summer’s breeze, travelling through her skin, almost burning with how much warmer it is than the freezing smoke it’s pushing back. She concentrates again, dives deeper and rebuilds the broken tissue bit by bit, as much as she can, feels him do the same, guiding her, showing her how, until she hears Anakin’s breathing even out a bit, that wheezing still there, but quieter. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do for now because she’s exhausted, and she can feel Obi-Wan is too. They move away, and she takes a moment to catch her own breath before she speaks. 

“I’m not going to force you to eat, but you will get hungry sooner or later, so you can be stubborn and wait for that, or you can eat now while it’s warm.” 

He doesn't answer, but she didn’t expect him to. Obi-Wan gets up, sits down at the table with three bowls. 

“Well? Care to join us?” She asks, but he just stays on the floor, because apparently, even after sixteen years he’s still a child. It hits her for what feels like the first time how young he was when he fell. They’re both old, ancient and exhausted in the force, their bodies damaged by decades of fighting, but he’s just five years older than her and now that feels like nothing. He’s allowed himself to sink into his petulance, let his childish anger fuel him for years, but all she’s done is grow old and tired. She feels like she ages another decade with the sigh she lets out after Obi-Wan speaks.

“There’s only two chairs anyway.” Why did she think any of this would be easy? Why is this what finally brings her to the edge, out of everything that’s happened in the last few days. She’d laugh if she wasn’t so angry.

“Oh for force’s sake, fine,” she snaps, then grabs two bowls and some bread, sits down on the floor next to Anakin, puts one of them in his lap, and digs in. It’s not even hot anymore with how long this whole ordeal took. It is good though, and she recognizes one of the spices as something Anakin always liked, always ate anything with it he could find, and so she’s not surprised when he gives in and starts eating, awkwardly scooping it up on the bread with his cuffed hands. She is surprised though when she hears the scrape of a chair on the floor, and Obi-Wan sits down on her other side. They eat in silence, and she can almost pretend they’re just too tired to talk after a long mission, like countless times before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader, the only person whomst it’s ok to deadname.  
> Ahsoka’s like we are gonna eat together like a fucking family if it kills me.
> 
> The good news is I don’t have to drop out after all. The bad news is that means I’ll have less time to write now. From now on I’ll be posting saturdays and tuesdays. That way I have about 3 weeks worth of updates ready, and hopefully I’ll manage to write something new by then.


	8. A question

After dinner, she grabs Anakin’s mask before he can put it back on, trying very hard not to stare at his scars. She’s felt the damage in his lungs, but it’s different to see it with her own eyes. Although, it’s the eyes that bother her the most. She’s seen worse wounds on all sorts of people, but that unnatural shade of yellow reminds her only of all the darksiders who’ve tried to kill her, and the fact that his name is now on that list. 

She gets to work on the rebreather, trying to reconnect it to the power source, but it’s all but hopeless. As much as a lightsaber is, all things considered, not a bad weapon to be hit by when it comes to flesh, it’s pretty much the worst thing you can do to electronics. The wires have all melted into each other, and the filter is scorched on one side. She manages to get it to work the slightest bit better, even as distracted as she by Anakin fuming with rage in the background. 

“I’ve done all I can,” she says, “But it’s not much. I’ll get a replacement tomorrow.”

He laughs in response, a mean and broken sound, but it’s also the first time she’s heard his real voice in ages.

“Not here you won’t.”

“He’s right, you know. Basic medical supplies are already hard to find here, something that sophisticated will be impossible to get,” says Obi-Wan, from where he’s meditating across the room.

She sighs, hands the mask to Anakin. 

“The sand is clogging up the filters. I don’t know what you expect to accomplish by bringing me here. Torturing prisoners doesn’t seem very in line with the ideals of your little rebellion,” he says, once he’s put it back on. 

She doesn’t answer, there’s no point arguing with him on things he knows nothing about. She should have disconnected the vocoder while she had the chance, mostly because she misses his voice, but also because the grating echo of the broken speaker has her on edge. It’s interesting that he doesn’t seem to blame her for damaging the mask in the first place though, compared to how easily he got angry at Obi-Wan earlier. But, to be fair, breaking a rebreather is nothing compared to cutting off three limbs. Force, she’s never again starting anything without having all the information beforehand, she’s not sure how many more of these revelations she can handle.

“I’ll take the first watch, go get some sleep,” She says to Obi-Wan when she sees him yawn. She hasn’t slept in two days, but she’s so wound up it’ll take her a while to calm down enough to fall asleep. He doesn’t ask if she’s sure, just goes into his bedroom like he can’t wait to be further away from Anakin, only stopping to grab his old lightsaber on the way.

She lays out the two bedrolls, turns off the lights and finally lays down, lets her body relax and sink into the hard floor, feels the knots and stress bleeding out and away from her muscles. Her eyes are closed, but she’s focused on Anakin in the force. She'll be able to feel it if he tries anything, better than trying to see him in the dark, and by hanging on to his presence she can keep herself from falling asleep. Their bond is closed off on his side, awkwardly and hastily constructed shields blocking the way. She hopes it’s a good sign, that he’s trying to think things through in private, not just hiding from her. And it certainly feels better than the earlier constant flood of darkness. 

After a long while she hears him move, and her hand jumps to her lightsaber, but he just lays down next to her. She immediately regrets putting the bedrolls this close to each other. They’re at arms length, but his loud breathing makes it feel much closer, sending a shiver down her spine. She can’t move further away though, that would defeat everything she’s trying to achieve here, even though she’s still not sure what that is exactly. She is sure that him thinking she’s disgusted, or afraid, or hateful won’t help, even though she is, a bit, and has every right to be. So she breathes out her discomfort into the force, and lays there in silence for another eternity.

There is a question that’s been rattling away in the back of her head though, and in the dark and quiet she feels like she might just get away with asking it. 

“Was it worth it?”

He stays silent for so long that she thinks he’s fallen asleep, even though he feels awake in the force. But then finally, he answers.

“Taunting me will not make me give you information.”

“I’m not looking for intel.” She is, desperately, but she knows she won’t get it, at least not yet. “It’s just... I’ve had my brushes with the dark side.“ She feels a burst of surprise break through his shields at that. “But it was always just painful, overwhelming. I’m curious if it can be anything else, if what they tempt you with is true. The knowledge, the power.” She’s probably going too far, doesn’t even know what kind of answer she’s hoping for, but she wasn’t lying. She is curious, fascinated even, and she’s never had a chance to just ask before.

There’s a long silence again, and she gives up on getting any answer, but the night must be making him more open too, because he says the last thing she expected to hear, quietly, like even thinking about something from that time is painful.

“Do you remember when we were stuck on that swamp planet?”

She does. No base, no ships, barely any sleep. Nothing but mud, toxic fumes, and death, for weeks on end. 

“Yes,” she says, curious where he’s going with this.

“It’s like finally taking off your boots after that. You feel free, untethered, invincible. But then the pain comes. And the sores…” And the smell. She gets the picture.

“It’s like that all the time,” he continues, “That feeling only gets stronger, but so does the pain. And each time you have to chase it further just to leave the pain behind for a moment.”

She doesn’t even know how to answer that. There’s no regret in his voice, but no pride either. In fact he sounds more like Anakin then he has this whole time, despite the raspy sound of the mask.

“It was never about being worth it or not. It was simply the only tolerable option at the time. Every time.”

He doesn’t say anything more, and neither does she, until the sky outside the windows starts to get the faintest bit lighter and she goes to wake up Obi-Wan. 

“Just take the bed,” he says, when he sees she’s dragged the bedroll with her. She doesn’t ask if she really can, or say anything besides a quiet thank you, because her voice would betray how desperate she is for it. She lays down, and it’s not much, more of a cot than a real bed, but she can’t remember the last time she slept without the quiet hum of a spaceship vibrating through the mattress, and it seems like the height of luxury to her. The covers are still warm, and the pillow smells like she barely remembers he did, from the few hugs he ever got the chance to give her. She falls asleep almost instantly.

Anakin doesn’t speak a word the next day, like he regrets saying too much the night before. He eats and drinks when they give him food and water, but other than that he sits completely still with his eyes closed. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was meditating. Or maybe he is, and he’s changed a lot more than she thought. 

She doesn’t feel like meditating though, has had enough of that for a while, and there’s almost nothing she can talk to Obi-Wan about. Her whole life has been the rebellion for years now, and his whole life is protecting Luke, and they can’t exactly mention either in front of Anakin. 

She manages to talk Obi-Wan into sparing with her, but it only makes her feel worse when she wins each time without breaking a sweat. She could count on the fingers of one hand every time she’s managed to beat him before, and he’d always been exhausted, or she’d cheated, using some of Anakin’s tricks. He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed about letting himself go, instead he just smiles and tells her he’s proud of her progress. 

The day drags on, and so does the night. The next morning they go out to work on the vaporator, to make sure it can keep up with three people, dragging a sulking Anakin with them. She doesn’t like having him out in the hot dry air with a broken mask, but they can’t exactly leave him alone. He stands there, looking like a shadow in the black suit silhouetted against the bright sky, watching them struggle with the wiring, until he finally breaks his silence to tell them what exactly they’re doing wrong, throwing in a sour “And hurry up so I can get out of the sun.”

They finish quickly after that, go back in and eat something, then settle once again into the same uncomfortable silence. She’s considering wrestling the mask off Anakin, and pretending she can actually fix it, just so she has something to do with her hands when all of a sudden, she notices the room has been getting steadily warmer for a while, like the sun is getting closer. She looks at Anakin, just in time to see his one visible eye widen. She jumps across the room in seconds, puts a hand on his helmet, and he mumbles out an annoyed “Not again…” before drifting off into sleep, not a moment too soon, because there’s a knock at the door. 

“Ben? Are you in there?” they hear Luke ask, and Obi-Wan looks at her surprised.

“I told him you were away, that he should come by in a few days,” she says, “I didn’t expect he’d be back so quickly. You better show your face, or he might think I killed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn’t like how I wrote Vader in the last chapter, you probably hated this one, but this is my fic and I’ll do what I want. And what I want is apparently an ex-Jedi sleepover.
> 
> I know it's a bit earlier than usual, but it's tuesday where I live already, so. 
> 
> This was originally two chapters, but the second part was too short to hold up on its own, so I’m posting them as one. That means I’m running out of chapters faster than I expected, so I might have to go down to one per week. For now we’re sticking to saturdays and tuesdays and I’ll let you know if that changes.


	9. A son

Luke finds himself thinking about Ahsoka more often than not over the next few days. She seemed trustworthy in a way few people around here are, like he already knew her somehow. He only realises he shouldn’t have trusted a complete stranger, much less given her the package, once his uncle gets angry at him for it. It turns into the usual argument between his aunt and uncle, about giving away their food to a weird old hermit. He’s never understood it. It’s not like they can’t spare it, and the way they talk about it makes him think they know a lot more about Ben than they’re letting on. He slips away unnoticed, goes into the shed to tinker with some half-finished project. He’s heard the conversation a thousand times, could recite both sides’ arguments word for word, but it always feels like they’re having another silent discussion at the same time, the way they trip over words, trail off in the middle of a sentence, sending him strange looks. It’s like there’s something they don’t want him to know, and that’s what they’re really disagreeing on. 

It’s why he goes to see Ben whenever he gets the chance, hoping to find some hint that would help unravel the mystery. He never does though, only gets surprisingly good, though strangely worded advice, and a general sense of calm out of their short conversations. Ahsoka is the closest he’s come to an actual clue to Ben’s past, although she raises even more questions. She was wearing armor when he saw her, but it wasn’t Mandalorian or imperial, so maybe she’s a bounty hunter? He feels a resounding _no_ in his head. 

Two days later, he still has no idea what her deal is. He crashed his bike the day before, so he can’t go meet his friends, and there’s not much to do on the farm outside the harvest season, so he grabs some water and wanders out into the desert. He rarely goes out there these days, but he used to enjoy it as a kid, just walking among the dunes. If he crossed his eyes just right he could almost imagine it was a real sea, swaying with waves and not his own steps. His aunt always warned him not to stray too far from the house, but he didn’t always listen. He never got lost. Even when he had no idea where he was, he’d always find his way back home, like something was pulling him in the right direction.

Before long he finds himself on the path to Ben’s house. He usually only goes there once every few months, but it’s not like his uncle can get angry if he doesn’t take any food. And if he waits months Ahsoka will probably be gone and he feels that it’s very important that he asks her about something, though he’s not sure what. 

Ben answers the door, looking more distracted than usual.

“Hello Luke, I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon. Please thank your aunt for the food, it was amazing, as usual.”

“I will.” Now that he’s here he doesn’t know what to say. I really need to talk to your friend, but i don’t know why or about what doesn’t sound good even in his head, and if he tried to skirt around it Ben would see right through him, he always does.

“Are you alright? You look confused.” 

“I’m just bored, I guess. There isn’t much to do this time of year.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re dehydrated.”

“No, really I’m fine.” Ben looks at him like he doesn’t believe him for a moment, then says:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t invite you in today, I… have a guest who’s very sick.” 

“That’s okay, I should be heading home soon anyway.” Well this certainly isn’t going as planned, not that he had much of a plan. But it’s not like he can just force his way in. “It’ll take me a while to get back on foot.”

“You don’t have your bike?”

“No, it broke. I can fix it though, I just haven’t found all the parts yet.”

“It broke all by itself?” And as usual, there’s no hiding the truth from him, but it’s fine, he never judges his stupid ideas, just smiles and shakes his head.

“I... I might have crashed it racing in the canyon.”

He hears a laugh from inside the house.

“Is that Ahsoka?” He asks, trying to look into the house, but it’s too dark inside to see much. “Is she the one who’s sick?”

“No, i’m fine Luke,” she shouts, “I’ll walk you home, go ahead, I’ll catch up.” 

“Okay! Bye Ben, I hope your friend feels better soon.” He’s already thinking of everything he wants to ask Ahsoka, and he turns around to leave, before remembering. “Can i get the basket back? My aunt was asking for it. And the one from last time too.”

“Sure, I’ll give them to Ahsoka. Goodbye Luke,” he says with a smile, then goes back inside. 

Luke walks away from the house, so they don’t think he’s trying to eavesdrop, then stops to wait for Ahsoka. Gossip travels fast around here, and he’s never heard of her before, so she probably hasn’t spent a lot of time here, and it’s easy to get lost if you’re not familiar with the area. She comes out moments later, walking so fast the two baskets she’s carrying ring with the sound of empty jars knocking into each other. He almost has to run to keep up with her. She’s sending worried looks over her shoulder, until the house disappears behind rocks and she finally slows down a bit. She smiles at him, like there’s nothing strange about the way she’s acting, and asks.

“So, do you race often?”

“Yes. I want to be a pilot, and it’s the only practice I can get around here.”

“Really? There’s no one who could teach you?” She must really not know much about Tatooine.

“No. All the ships belong to the Hutts, or their bounty hunters. I want to go to the Academy, but my uncle says I’m too young, even though some of my friends already got in.”

She doesn't respond, just hums in recognition.

“Did you go there?” He asks.

“Oh no, I learned to fly long before it existed, but I do have friends who did.”

“And? What did they think of it?” He never managed to keep in touch with anyone who actually went there long enough to learn any details, probably because they don’t have much time for long distance transmissions to their backwater friends once they make it.

“Well, they weren’t very satisfied. The atmosphere is too strict, and you don’t actually learn all that much.” He feels a bit like she’s stepped on all of his dreams. Where else can he learn to fly? It must show on his face, because she immediately gives him a new hope.

“You know, I’m a decent pilot myself. And I have a ship. I could teach you some things.”

“Really? You have your own ship? Can we go see it?” 

“Maybe not today, it’s going to get dark soon.”

“Isn’t it always dark in space?” 

“It is, but the ground is also a lot further away, and I’m rather fond of that ship,” she laughs. She does have a point, considering the only thing she knows about him is that he crashed his bike. “You can come back tomorrow if you’d like, maybe a bit earlier in the day.”

“I would. I mean, I will,” he answers, tripping over his words in excitement.

They walk in silence for a while after that, until he finally works up the courage to ask.

“How do you know Ben?”

“We met during the war,” she says, after thinking for a while.

“You fought in the clone wars? But you don’t look that old.” It comes out automatically and he could kick himself for being rude, but she just laughs again, sounding like she’s surprised she can.

“I was a bit younger than you then.”

“And you were a soldier?” He can’t imagine it, fighting a war at his age. Even imperial cadets weren’t sent to fight that young.

“Not exactly.” She stops to think again, like she’s carefully choosing the right words. “I was in training.”

“And Ben was your teacher?”

“Actually, your father was.” This doesn’t exactly add up to what his uncle told him, but somehow he knows she isn’t lying. She immediately looks like she regrets saying it, but he can’t stop his curiosity. 

“You knew my father?”

“I used to. He... we lost touch after the war ended. He taught me most of what I know, and I miss him every day.” 

His mind is bursting with questions, but she looks so sad all of a sudden that he doesn’t want to scare her off and lose his one chance at learning to fly. Hopefully he’ll get a chance to ask her later. 

They settle back into a comfortable silence, the melancholy in her expression fading into thoughtfulness just as the sunset fades into dusk. 

She stops once they see the lights of his house in the distance.

“I’ll leave you here, I wouldn’t want to scare your aunt, though her jam really is delicious,” she says, handing him the baskets, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Actually, can we meet the day after?” he asks , “I can get there faster if I fix my bike.”

“Of course. Till then,” She says, then turns around and walks away. He can’t wait already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this out of schedule cause I'm having a shit day. 
> 
> I don’t have anything funny to say about this one except he’s baby!!!!  
> And it was very fun writing someone using the force without knowing it.
> 
> Also it's insane that this is now over 10k words, and there's another 9k in my docs waiting to be edited.
> 
> Next chapter should show up sometime during the weekend, in the meantime you can find me on tumblr @transmalewife


	10. A father

Vader wakes up angrier than usual. He hates that they can just force him to sleep like an unruly child whenever they want to. He hates that he can’t fight back, the force muted and distant, unreachable through the cuffs. He hates most of all that it’s the most restful sleep he’s had in years. He gets up, struggling to keep his balance with his ankles bound.

“Please sit down, you won’t catch them in those cuffs,” says Obi-Wan calmly, from where he’s sitting at the table.

“You could take them off then,” he spits at him.

“I don’t think I will.”

He tries to walk out anyway and trips immediately, sits back down on the floor to avoid falling, pretending it was his intention all along. He’s exhausted, the broken mask not giving him enough oxygen, the heat making all his scars ache, the cuffs cutting off his connection to the force, making the whole world seem slow and blurred, like he’s lost one of his senses. And he has, in a way. At the same time everything seems too bright. After only seeing the simplified blacks and red of the sensors in his mask and the sterile interiors of ships for so long, the stark colors in the unforgiving sunlight of this horrible planet almost hurt his eye, especially when the other one still sees that dark, synthetic image, now glitching periodically because of the damage to his helmet. 

This whole situation has him disoriented. He hadn’t been in a fight he could lose in years, death or injury seemed impossible, capture absurd. But here he is, and he has no idea how to go about getting out, nor the energy to do it.

“Where is the other one?” He asks instead.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You really think I didn't know she was having twins? Don’t lie to me, you were never any good at it.”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at him with an infuriating expression, so he throws all his anger at him in return.

“You took everything from me. My legs, my wife, my children...”

“I never laid a finger on your wife,” Obi-Wan cuts in before he can continue with the long list that’s been replaying in his mind for years.

“She’s dead because of you.” He expects to get another calm silence, or to be told it was his fault alone, but instead Obi-Wan looks down at his hands, and answers, with a nauseating sadness in his voice. 

“I know. I should never have let her go to you.” 

Of course he’d say something like that, pretending to take the blame, but still making it very clear that it’s all his own fault. _Isn’t it though?_ Asks that smug little voice in his head, the one he still hasn’t managed to kill after all these years. It sounds like the whole Jedi council combined, like Ahsoka and Rex, and sometimes, on the worst days, like a disappointed Padmé. 

“You stole my children from me,” he says, because he can’t let himself think of Padme here.

“Am I to understand I should have given them to you, so you could enforce the tyranny of your empire with two newborns on your arm?” 

“I would have trained them in the ways of the Sith.” 

“You think the emperor would have allowed it? There can be only two. Remember Ventress? Even Dooku? Do you really think he would have let anyone as powerful as them grow up, let alone be trained?”

“We would have defeated him and ruled the galaxy together.”

“Yes, of course, I see it now. The strongest Jedi couldn’t kill him, but surely two babies would have tipped the scales in your favor. Stop lying to yourself, you were never good at it either.” How dare he make jokes about this.

“I am more powerful than any Jedi.”

“Well then it’s good Ahsoka never became one, isn’t it?” And now Obi-Wan’s the one who’s getting angry, trying to push the blame onto him, like he didn’t just sit there and do nothing while she walked away. He’s furious that his face is even partly visible. He feels naked, exposed. He drops his head down, trying to hide, angry that he needs to. People hide from him, not the other way round. He grinds his teeth and asks again, slowly.

“Where is the other one?” 

“She’s safe, with friends.” He didn’t expect to get an answer, so it shocks a question out of him.

“What friends? All your friends are dead.”

“Yes, you certainly made sure of that,” Obi-Wan answers, with a tired sigh. “She’s with Padmé’s friends.” 

Those are mostly dead too, unless... Of course. Bail Organa. The princess, what was her name?

“Leia.” he says, surprised, but it’s so obvious now that he sees it. Padmé had wanted to name her after her sister, and the ancient version of the name Sola was Soleia. Sunrise. 

He hates the very notion of his child being raised by some cold politician. He tries to remember anything from the few times he’d seen her from afar, at some military parade or other official function, but he’s usually so bored during those that he barely pays attention to what’s going on. She’d seemed completely unassuming, just as boring as all the other royal children, not a whiff of the force to be found in her. It makes his skin crawl. 

“Ask me then,” says Obi-Wan, after another deep sigh, like he’s not sure what he’s doing.

“What?” 

“Ask me anything you want to know about Luke and I will tell you all I can.”

“Why?” Is this another trick?

“He is your son. You deserve to know.” He doesn’t sound like he believes that, but Vader isn’t one to look a gift bantha in the mouth, so before Obi-Wan can change his mind, he asks.

“Where does he live?”

“With Owen and Beru. We thought it best to leave him with family.”

“They are not my family.” He’s only met them once in his life, they might as well be strangers. He’d lost both women he’d considered his family because he’d listened to Obi-Wan. And there’s that sly voice again, pointing out _you used to consider Obi-Wan family too._ He shoves it away, and asks what he wants to know most.

“Is he strong in the force?”

“Stronger than anyone I’ve met.” 

He doesn't know whether to feel proud or jealous. _Jealous of your own son? That’s low, even for you._

“And he’ll only get stronger with training,” Obi-Wan continues, surprising him again.

“You aren’t training him?”

“Would you rather I did?” He has a point there. But someone should. 

“What does he do then?”

“He’s a perfectly normal teenager. Helps on the farm, races with his friends. He wants to be a pilot, you know, wants to go to the Academy.”

“The Academy? He won’t learn anything there.” He’s not sure what they do in there, but it definitely isn’t teaching anyone how to fly, or shoot for that matter. 

“I tried telling him, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s a lot like you were in that.” He doesn’t have any way to answer that without discrediting himself, so he just falls silent again. 

He’d spent the last two days trying to break through the haze of the cuffs and reach the emperor, but now Obi-Wan has cast doubt into his mind. Maybe it is better if Luke isn’t found, at least not until he’s had a chance to meet him, teach him how to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vader is trying to do his whole I am drama I am death routine but Obi-Wan is back on clone wars era levels of banter and he’s not having any of it.  
> The Naboo are now french-adjacent, because I said so. Although I suppose they always were, with that cheeky little accent on Padme's name that i always forget to add.
> 
> Also it's very important to me that you know that had Ahsoka been in the room for this conversation she would have been violently projecting an image of Vader's suit with one of those double baby carriers built in.


	11. A conversation

Ahsoka doesn’t go inside when she gets back to the house. She jumps on the roof instead and tugs gently on her bond with Obi-Wan to let him know she’s back. Up here she feels closer to the stars than all the conflict below. She sits down, the heat of the day seeping into her skin from the clay dome, while the air gets colder by the minute and looks up, deep into the sky, lets her mind flow freely, spinning slowly out into the dark. 

She sees one of the stars start to grow, until it detaches from the sky and lands on her finger.

“Hello Morai. I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.” 

The convor chirps when she scratches her under the chin.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea what I should do?” 

Morai only leans her head to the side, blinking at her in response.

“Yeah, me neither,” Ahsoka sighs.

She jumps onto her shoulder, rubs her head between her montrals, comforting her with that strange sensation she always brings, hope and light as a physical touch. She gets pulled into it, feels it wrap around her, protecting her so she can drop her shields and open her mind to the universe. It’s in those moments that she’s most thankful that she’s stayed with her over the years. It’s dangerous to be this vulnerable out in the world, even before the war most people only dared to open themselves like this in temples, or other spiritual places, but she knows she’ll always be safe when she needs to. Obi-Wan’s shields only make her feel safer, and she can almost see them now, a magnificent, shimmering dome high above her. She can feel him too, below, sad and thoughtful, and Anakin, angry as always, but surprisingly lost in thought himself. She ignores them for now, lets her awareness flow further out, until they become insignificant specks, like the stars above. She feels herself grow larger, rise higher, until her body is nothing but an anchor keeping her in the physical world, until she can feel the warm static of the shields brush against her like a mist settling on her skin. She can feel Luke from here, shining bright even in his sleep, blissfully unaware. She doesn’t know if she has the courage to break that, to start him on this awful path. 

_Is it really so awful? Has it not brought you joy too? Pleasure despite the pain?_

“I don’t know. I’ve never known anything else,” she answers. All her happiest memories are tied to the force, the Jedi, but so are the saddest ones. “He has a chance for a normal life, a good life.”

_This planet will not hold him for long. That is not his destiny._

“What is his destiny then?”

_That is for you to decide_

“Me? How can I lead him? I barely know where I’m going.”

_I have shown you a way, child. Is it not enough?_

She’s pulled deeper into the sky, and sees in the distance a bright and awful flare, millions of voices crying out in pain. She feels her body shiver, lightyears below her.

“Is this what would have happened?”

_It could still. Nothing is fixed, until you make it so._

“How can I fix this alone? I’m the one who broke it.” The force doesn’t answer, just gives her the equivalent of a disappointed look. 

“I’m just one person. What can I do?”

_You are not alone. Many have walked the path before you, and more yet will come._

A long-forgotten smell reaches her senses. A specific combination of unscented cleaning products, incense, and thousands of sentients of different species sharing one space, each with their own foods, cosmetics. There’s a muted chatter behind her, like hearing a crowd in the next room. She turns and sees countless people, stretching to the horizon until they fade into a solid mass of bright colors and quiet comfort. At the front are familiar faces, ones she thought she’d never see again. Master Ti is there, with her usual serious expression, Master Secura right beside her, and many others. Standing so close she could almost touch him is Master Plo, a sad smile in his eyes. She wants to reach out, but he shakes his head, and when he speaks, it’s with an echo of infinite voices. 

_Don’t look back, little ‘Soka. The future awaits you._

She stays frozen, tears swelling up in her eyes, but he just nods at her, stepping back into the crowd. She tries not to get lost in the bittersweet feeling, whispers a quiet goodbye, then turns back around. There she finds another line of people, backs turned to her, starting with Ezra, and right beside him is Luke, holding hands with a dark-haired human. She recognizes her, but not her force presence, like she’s only seen her in holos, until they both turn around, sending her the same smile. It’s Bail’s daughter, Leia, and now that she sees them together, the resemblance is striking. Slowly they begin to fade. She stays there until she’s left alone again, cosmic energy flowing through her like tears down her face.

A song calls to her, heartbroken and old, pulling at her leg like a lost child, and she’s brought back into her body, where it's floating inches above the roof. The tugging at her hip is more intense now, and she takes out her crystal. A dull red light floods the roof, a dull sadness, her mind.

She’s done this before, but this time it’s different. She can't just send universal, impersonal light. She has to start with an apology. She doesn’t hold it up in the air, clutches it in her fist instead, presses it tight against her heart. She lets all the pain, the fear, the loneliness flood her, takes it all in, and allows it to flow away into the force, but it just keeps coming. All the horrible things it has done over the years, all the horrible things that were done to it. Two distinct voices crying _How could you leave me!?_ So loud she can feel it pound in her chest. She can’t hold it much longer, her whole body is going numb from the cold, but she can’t let go either, and this might be the end, what finally pulls her under, but then Morai wraps her tail around her fist, sends her the faintest dash of warmth, just enough to grab on and pull herself up. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and slowly the flood eases up, letting her breathe again. 

_I know._

It’s only one voice now, but she’s not sure which. When she opens her eyes the light shining between her fingers is white, almost blinding, but it still feels slightly cold, nothing like the deep freeze before, more like an uncomfortable hug. She’s a bit disappointed, she’d hoped against hope that she’d get her oldest friend back completely, not a pure but indifferent facsimile. But hope never works well these days. 

She goes to unfold her fingers and put the crystal away, but Morai squeezes her tail tighter around her hand, nudges her with her head, as if to say go on, don’t give up. She brings the crystal up to float in front of her and smiles through the tears when she remembers her first time on Ilum, the test of careful patience she’d gone through to get it, all the times it saved her life and others, and even that last helpless goodbye. She tries to remember how she felt when she was young, back when her courage was a choice, not a curse, when she protected people out of love and duty, not because there was no one else who could. She tries to sink back into that mindset, and it’s easier with a friend there. She remembers everything she’d tried to forget for years, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to go on if she acknowledged how broken the world is. But she needs it now, needs that reminder of how things were, how they can be again. She stays there, remembering, longing, and hoping desperately, until the sky turns pink at the edges, just as her crystal glows green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm laying the symbolism on a bit thick here, but I feel like by this point the force realises that sublety doesn't work well on this lineage. 
> 
> Also as much as we need more women in media, this was a lot easier to write when there was only one character with she/her pronouns.
> 
> Fuck schedules actually. From now on I'm posting whenever I feel like it. I'll try to keep them somewhere around saturdays and tuesdays so I don't run out of chapters too fast, but yeah...


	12. A decision

“I will train the boy,” Ahsoka says, walking into the house, and it sounds a touch dramatic, but this whole situation is pretty dramatic. She must look that way too, with the sunrise framing her in the door, the goddess of light on her shoulder, the crystal still glowing bright through her pocket, at least judging by Obi-Wan’s stare. 

“That is not your choice to make,” says Anakin, and Morai chirps disapprovingly, flying off into the sky. She shoots her a see you later smile, then closes the door. 

“You’re right, it’s not. But it’s not yours either. I will teach him, if he’ll have me. And…” She takes a deep breath at that, because she’s made her decision, but it wasn’t an easy one. “I haven’t wanted to be a Jedi in so long, but he should be. He deserves to be.” She turns to Obi-Wan. “I’m ready to be a knight.”

He doesn’t ask her if she’s sure, just smiles and nods proudly, slides a cup of tea across the table for her. 

“So you’re just going to let a half-baked Jedi train my son, but you won’t even let me meet him?” 

Obi-Wan looks ready to ignore that, but she has her doubts. Her path is clear now, but Anakin’s is not, and she can’t think of any better way to guide him back to the light than the bright and incorruptible glow of Luke in the force.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe they should meet. He wouldn’t hurt a child…” she trails off remembering how he fought Ezra, “His own child at least.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Obi-Wan says, with a pained look, “what do you know of order 66?” 

“You mean the chips? Only what I saw. The clones turned on me. Except Rex.”

“Really? That’s impressive,” 

“He managed to hold it off just long enough to save me. To tell me what I needed to know in order to save him.”

“He’s alive?” Asks Obi-Wan out loud, and Anakin through their bond. 

“Yes, he’s with the rebellion. Woolfe and Gregor too.”

“What about Cody?” She hasn’t seen him this hopeful in years, and she hates having to break that.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says, and takes a long sip of tea before continuing. “When the clones turned, they killed the Jedi out in the field. But there weren’t enough of them in the temple to outnumber the Jedi still there. Palpatine sent his apprentice to take care of them. The sick, the elderly, and…”

“...The younglings,” she finishes, horrified, then turns to Anakin, all her anger showing for the first time. “How could you?” Only tolerable option, yeah right. She shouldn’t be surprised, she knows what she signed up for, but she still wants so badly to forget what he’s become, wants to believe that there’s hope for him yet, and he keeps trying to prove her wrong. He doesn’t answer, just floods the room with anger again, failing to mask the shame crawling underneath. She doesn’t know how to even begin dealing with that, so she just walks away, again, locks herself in the bedroom and tries to fall asleep before she starts to cry. 

Obi-Wan wakes her up in the late afternoon, with a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and she repeats his own words to him.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe it is. But then it’s my fault as well.” She rubs at the tears crusted around her eyes. “We’re here now, that’s all that matters. We were given a second chance, and maybe he’ll take his too.”

There’s a meal waiting for her in the main room, and she eats at the table this time, back turned to Anakin. Later Obi-Wan asks her if she’s ready, and she nods.

They walk out into the desert, Anakin sitting side-saddle on a dewback. He’s being surprisingly docile, at least until the journey starts to drag on, the pregnant silence pressing in on them even more than the heat.

“I don’t understand why you need to do this in the middle of nowhere.”

“There is a power in emptiness,” Obi-Wan answers, “and it’s not much further now.”

It’s not just that though. She knows where they’re going now, the very center of his shields. It’s not the Hall of Knighthood, but she gets why he didn’t want to do it in his house. There’s too much baggage there, immeasurable pain mixed with the mundane, stagnating for years. Here, out in the open, nothing but dunes stretching endless in every direction there’s all this space, potential for a new beginning. 

Suddenly they’re here. Obi-Wan stops, and without further ado turns to her and asks.

“Have you found your purpose, padawan?”

“I have.” The meditation meant to discover that traditionally came after the decision to be knighted, but not a single moment of her training had been traditional, so it’s fitting that it should end that way too. “I will teach the next generation, so the Jedi way may live on. So they can bring balance to the galaxy.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan says, and ignites his lightsaber, and it’s all going so fast. She is ready, really, but she went from not even considering becoming a Jedi to the ceremony in days, so she’s almost grateful when Anakin stalls them, from where he’s slipped off the dewback to hide in its shade.

“You sure you’re not too out of practice with that thing? We wouldn’t want you to cut off her montrals, old man.”

Obi-Wan falters for a second, like he actually thinks she’d rather have him do it, even after everything. She turns to Anakin, the sunset blinding her.

“You lost your chance a long time ago.”

They almost continue when he speaks again, the mocking gone from his voice.

“Wait. You’ll need this.” He digs something out of a pocket and hesitates before extending both cuffed hands towards her. He’s holding her own braid. She should have expected him to have other souvenirs, but she’s still surprised. She approaches slowly, and without thinking about it too much turns around, so he can attach it to her headdress himself. He could throw his cuffs over her neck and try to strangle her, and she could stab him then, and she’s probably the only person who’s had to deal with something like that during their knighting. He doesn’t though, just hesitates again before pinning the braid on her. She shivers when the cold beads fall on her skin, more than from his gloved touch. He lays his hand on her shoulder then, and for a moment she feels he is proud of her, under all the resentment. She puts her hand over his, closes her eyes and tries not to imagine how this could have gone if she hadn’t left. If he hadn’t fallen. If he were just another master proud of his apprentice. But it’s too late for that now, and she walks away, kneels in front of Obi-Wan instead, and looks up to hear him say the words.

"The Force speaks through us. Through our actions, the Force proclaims itself and what is real. Today we are here to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed.”

She can see Morai flying in lazy circles above them, and both her masters are here, and maybe it was always meant to be this way. She wouldn’t be any more ready if she’d finished her training within the order, if she’d passed prewritten trials, instead of learning to survive in the world.

“By the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi, Knight of the Order,” Obi-Wan says, lowering his saber over her shoulders, then cuts off her braid. Later she’ll find molten beads stuck to her headdress, a reminder of her new responsibility. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was that about not being able to handle new revelations Ahsoka?
> 
> I changed the words for the knighting a bit, there was a lot of mentions of the council and republic which would ring a bit hollow. 
> 
> As always you can find me on tumblr @transmalewife   
> well maybe not as always since I changed my url but still


	13. A lesson

It’s been a few days since she started teaching Luke to fly. They’d spent the first day going over the basics, drilling take-offs and landings over and over, like she wished someone had done with her. For years after the war she’d kept accidentally finding completely basic things that a ship could do, things most pilots learned on the first day, but she never got a chance to. Partly because there wasn’t time, partly because Anakin wasn’t ever the kind of person that checked the user manual when he encountered a problem, instead inventing a way to do what needed to be done, no matter if there was an easier solution. 

The next day they moved on to some actual flying, maintaining altitude, steering. She wants him to learn to control the ship completely before moving on to more complicated exercises, mostly because she’s determined to do this right, but also because she can’t risk getting stranded if they crash. But her doubts quickly fade when she sees how quickly he picks everything up, how he seems completely aware of the ship as if it were an extension of his own body. She’s not even surprised, considering who his father is, and even though she manages to keep him busy enough so he doesn’t have a chance to ask, she can feel the waves of curiosity crashing against her shields whenever she thinks that. It’s overwhelming at times, how strong he is, how she can feel his happiness mixing with hers whenever he does something just right, and how quickly it fades when he misses the mark. She knows he can’t leave the planet, or even this general area without learning how to shield, but has no idea how to even bring it up.

His excitement fades a bit by the end of the second day, but comes back when she suggests he shows her the racing track tomorrow.

It’s not really a track, just a long, winding canyon, littered on the edges with speeders destroyed beyond repair, stripped of anything worth salvaging. 

“You’re thinking about it too much,” she says, when he slows down before making a sharp turn again, “you need to just feel the right moment. You won’t have time to be careful during a battle.”

“You know, the longer I know you, the less I want to actually fight in any battles.” And there go the second thoughts again.

“That’s probably smart, but they have a way of finding you, whether you like it or not. Let’s go again, faster this time.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to crash the ship.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take over if you miss,” she says, tapping her fingers on her own steer, “just trust me, and yourself. You know this place like the back of your hand, I know you can do it.”

And this time, he speeds through the canyon without slowing down, nailing each turn, barely avoiding scraping the wings at times, but avoiding it nonetheless.

“Good job, pad... Luke,” she quickly changes the subject before he can notice her mistake. “How’s your aim?”

They spend the rest of the day getting him acquainted with the guns of her ship, and even though she hasn’t told him anything yet, she’s looking forward to having a co-pilot again, to being able to focus on flying without having to handle the guns as well, especially when it turns out he’s a great shot. 

They settle into a routine. She spends her days teaching Luke to fly, and nothing else, at least not openly, and her nights guarding Anakin in shifts with Obi-Wan, healing him as much as they can every few days. He seems resigned to captivity, at least for now, though she’s not sure why and that worries her. He’s settled into an empty, bored silence, periodically exploding in anger when they bring up the past, more often at Obi-Wan than her. Even rarer are the times he’ll add in something when they’re joking, all of them forgetting for a moment why they’re here. Still, she’s getting restless, and the stillness is starting to feel like the calm before a storm. After a week she can barely stand the tense atmosphere in the house, and she goes to her ship earlier than usual. While she’s waiting for Luke she sits down on the floor, disassembles one of her sabers, and tries to replace the crystal with the new one, or rather, the old one. It doesn’t fit, obviously. It was worth a try, though.

_No it wasn’t._

She sighs and digs out the scrap left over from Vader’s lightsaber, from where she’d kicked it into a corner. The crystal mount is intact, because of course it is. At least she knows it’ll fit perfectly. That doesn’t make her feel better about having to use it. 

_Why are you afraid of a piece of metal, child?_

“I’m afraid of what it represents. Darkness. Failure.”

_Is that why you hide from your padawan? Fear of failure?_

“He is not my padawan yet.”

_He will be, once you ask him._

“Yeah, that’s the problem. How do I even begin to explain this to him. I wasn’t trained for that.”

 _You weren’t trained for most of what you have encountered, and yet here you are, alive._

That’s true, and she has been avoiding it for too long now. She’s made her decision and there’s no point delaying it any longer. The universe doesn’t usually wait for stragglers. “Alright. I’ll tell him.”

_He is not your only charge._

“You mean Bail’s daughter? Leia? I’ve never even met her.”

_Perhaps it’s time you did._

She doesn’t get to ask anything else, or sink back into her doubts because that’s when Luke comes in.

“Join me,” she says, gesturing at the floor in front of her, sweeping the lightsaber parts aside.

“How will this help me be a pilot?”

“You’ll see.” He sits down then, though the doubt in his mind is obvious. “Close your eyes and try to quiet your mind. Focus on the sound of my voice. Let your thoughts flow freely, but don’t chase them. Breathe,” she adds when she notices he barely is. Slowly she feels the chaotic, loud flow of his mind smooth out. “Alright. Now tell me what you see.” 

“Nothing. Was I meant to open my eyes?” He asks, and she has to suppress an exasperated sigh. She has no idea how to train someone from the very start, she’d been taught how to meditate before she could even read, and no one but the crechemasters usually needed to know how to interact with someone so completely untrained, let alone teach them.

“Focus, Luke. See beyond what your eyes can see. What do you feel?”

“I feel… you.” Thankfully he’s a quick study in this too. 

“And how do I feel?” He’s still confused, that much is clear, but she feels his mind brush up against hers, cautiously this time, purposefully, nothing like the usual bursts of emotion. 

“Green? And sweet like… like berries. And sad too,” it’s interesting that he sees all that. It’s similar to how her agemates would describe her, when they played this game as younglings. Nowadays she puts up a facade of determination, and Ezra once compared her to a Nubian ship, sleek, compact, and blinding with reflected starlight. 

“That’s good. Now, can you hear what I’m thinking?”

“How would I?”

“Don’t question it before you try,” she says, and pictures Obi-Wan at the forefront of her mind, something familiar that he should have no problem picking up, locks everything else deep inside.

“You miss your friends,” he says, and that’s almost right, but he’s still talking, voice even and distant. “There’s a tall one, and he’s like you, but also not like you at all. And he’s so lost. There’s a boy my age and he’s lost too, but he doesn’t know it yet.” He shouldn’t be able to see any of that. She follows his mind and sees Kanan and Ezra, fighting each other, a strange sickly sweet smell around them, a bit, but not exactly like Ventress. 

“I think they’re in danger,” he says, voice getting shaky, and she snaps out of it, 

“That’s enough Luke, you did well.” She wraps her shields around him like a blanket, but he’s still lost in that fear, so she pulls him against her, hugs him tight and breathes a calming breath into his hair. “You’re safe, you can come back now.”

“What was that?” He asks, once he calms down, and this is it. She can’t run any longer.

“Have you never felt something like that before? Do you ever feel something bad will happen before it does? Or you know who’s at the door before they knock?”

“My aunt says everyone does that sometimes.”

“Not everyone. Or they do, but not that often,” She takes a deep breath. She can hear claws tapping on the metal roof of the ship. Morai never liked being inside, but she wouldn’t stay away for this. “It’s called the Force. It’s an energy that flows through the universe, through all living things. Some of us more than most. We can use it to change the world, to help others.” Or hurt them, she doesn’t add. “Before you were born the Jedi trained those people. Your father taught me just as Ben taught him. And now I'd like to teach you.” He’s staring at her with wide eyes, like he’s surprised that he believes her, and she expects a thousand questions, except the one he actually asks.

“You mean that was real? What about your friends? They’re in danger, we have to help them.” She should have known, he cares so strongly about everyone. But they can’t help them, she can’t take Luke off planet, she has to trust Kanan and Ezra to figure this out on their own. Besides, while the danger was clear, the Force hadn’t felt frantic and desperate, the way it does when she needs to intervene. They have their job to do and she has hers.

“They’ll be fine,” she says, trying to convince herself just as much as him. “They’ve faced worse before.” She moves on before he can get stuck on the issue. “What do you think then? Do you want to learn to use that power, to become a Jedi like your father? Like… Like me?” It still feels strange, thinking of herself as part of that line, instead of a mistake on the margins. 

“You mean you’d stay here to teach me?”

“For a while, yes. But I do have work to do, and at some point we’d have to leave.”

“I’ll have to ask my aunt and uncle,” he says, doubt overshadowing the curiosity on his face.

“I know you value their opinion, and you should definitely tell them about it, but ultimately the decision has to be yours,” she says, because as much as she doesn’t want to take him away from his family, she can’t have them holding him back. “I can come with you to talk to them, if you think that would help.”

“Maybe not yet. I’d like to talk to them first. Can you tell me more?” That curiosity is back, and she smiles, and goes to sit at the steer.

“How about I show you instead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay since the ghost crew is going to show up soon I wanna clarify some timeline fuckery. We’re skipping the 6 months break between season 2 and 3, it’s been about two weeks since Malachor as of the end of this chapter, and only episodes 1, 2, 3 and 11 of season 3 have happened at this point (so basically they've lost the phantom and found the darksaber). Let’s say the force is getting restless and it made the holocron influence Ezra a lot faster (though probably a bit less than in canon), and made Maul hurry his plans up a bit. 
> 
> I'm sick and can't do anything except write, so you're getting an extra chapter, since I've got about 6 more ready to go. Next one on tuesday or wednesday.


	14. A choice

Ahsoka flies them further out into the desert, and lands in a spot at first glance indistinguishable from any other.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this far away from the house,” Luke says, once they walk out onto the sand.

“That’s why we’re here. Come on, just a few steps forward. Alright, stop.” She takes his hand in hers and extends them forward until they can both feel the magnetic push and pull of Obi-Wan’s shields. His eyes widen and his other hand jumps up to press experimentally against the immaterial wall.

“You’re very bright in the Force, I felt it as soon as I saw you,” she says, “Obi-Wan built these walls to protect you, keep you hidden from people who’d want to hurt you, but if we’re to leave Tatooine, you'll have to make your own.” And once again he asks the last thing she expected.

“Who’s Obi-Wan?”

“Oh. I forgot you didn’t know. That’s Ben's real name. Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He hums, closes his eyes to see the shields better, then after a while steps back with that same curious smile.

“Alright, what else would I have to learn?”

She takes them back to where she usually keeps the ship hidden among rocks and shows him her lightsabers, moving through some basic forms. It feels strange, having to advertise this, but she can see he’s already all but convinced, just buying time to figure out how to talk to his family. 

“Are you going to give me one of yours?”

“Actually, you’ll have to build one. And so will I.” She quickly dismantles one of them. “This is a kyber crystal, It’s what gives a lightsaber it’s powers. I recently... found another, so I can give you this one.” 

“How do I make one? Do you have schematics?” She can see his eyes jumping around the parts floating in front of her, measuring, remembering, planning.

“Well I can teach you the general construction, and you’ll need to find a powercell and some other universal parts, but the rest is personal. This weapon is part of what it means to be a Jedi, and it has to be connected to who you are so you can use it properly. That could mean a shape that’s most comfortable, or a material significant to your upbringing.” She feels it when he suddenly gets an idea, drags her back to the ship, taking off before she can even sit down. They land in front of a massive Krayt dragon skeleton, and he runs to it proudly.

“Will this work?”

“It’s not the most common choice, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t.” She hands him her lightsaber. “Remember, this is not a toy, it can cut through almost anything.” He ignites it and moves it around experimentally. The handle is too long for him to keep it properly balanced, so when he chooses one of the ribs curving high above them, he has to use both hands to cut through. It starts tipping over towards him, and she grabs it with the Force, moves it to the side and sets it gently next to him. He gawks at her like she’s just performed a magic trick, and in his mind she probably has.

“You have to be more careful,” she says.

“I thought you said there wouldn’t be time for that.”

“We’re not in battle right now.”

She approaches as he cuts off a more manageable piece.

“I can carve it down at home,” he says, giving back her lightsaber, “and I should be heading back, it’s getting late.” 

“Remember, it has to fit you, don’t try to copy mine. Listen, and the Force will guide you.”

He nods, gets on his bike and drives away. 

Once he’s out of sight she gets back on the ship. One down, one to go. She flies off planet, jumps to the next system to make sure she can’t be traced, and opens a line to Alderaan.

“This is Fulcrum, do you read me,” she says with that warped voice she hasn’t used in so long.

“Loud and clear,” Bail answers.

“Are you alone? Is the line secure?”

“Yes. Is everything alright?” He asks, with a worried tinge in his voice. 

She disables the masking. She needs him to know it’s her, she needs him to trust her on this

“Ahsoka? I’m so glad to see you’re safe.”

“I’m glad to see you too, but unfortunately this isn’t a social call.”

“I figured as much. Do you have intel for me?” 

“More of a request,” she pauses, for her sake more than his, before continuing, “it’s time the twins were reunited.” He stays silent for a long time, but in the end the rebel in him wins with the father, and with a resigned tone he says.

“I knew this day would come, but I hoped I’d have more time with her.”

“I’ll keep her safe, I promise.”

“I have no doubt about that. I’ll send you her schedule.”

“Don’t! In fact it’s best if you don’t contact me at all,” that definitely won’t make him feel better about putting his daughter’s safety in her hands, but she knows he’ll understand the need for secrecy, “send it to the ghost crew, they’ve met before. They can handle it.” He looks so tired all of a sudden, but nods all the same.

“Alright. Is there anything else you need?”

“Actually, yes. Medical supplies.”

“Anything specific?” It hits her that she doesn’t actually know. She doubts Anakin would have told her even if she’d thought to ask.

“A rebreather. Human. And as much bacta as you can spare.”

“Understood. I’ll arrange for it. And Ahsoka... I’ll tell her everything I know, but it’s not much. Be careful with her, she’s strong, but not that strong.”

“I will.” He disconnects then, and she sits there for a while, wondering if any of them are, before turning the masking back on and making another call. Hera picks up, back on the base.

“Is that Ah-” She hears Ezra start, then yelp when someone presumably shuts him up. She is glad to see he’s safe already because despite what she told Luke, she’d been worried the entire day.

“I have a mission for you,” she says, “you're going to kidnap the princess of Alderaan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello plot? We’re getting somewhere now. Don’t be fooled tho, this is, at its core, a fic about people sitting and thinking about their feelings.


	15. A weapon

Luke shows up the next day with something resembling a lightsaber handle carved out of the Krayt bone, and a huge bag of tools and spare parts. They sit down on the floor of Ahsoka’s ship, where she’s already spread out her own dismantled saber, and all the parts from Vader’s that are still usable. He adds a new powercell to the pile, and a handful of what looks like every vaguely circular piece of metal he managed to find. She hands him the white crystal.

“Usually, finding the crystal is the most important part of the process,” she says, leading him towards a shallow meditation, opening them both up to connect with the lightsabers they’re about to build. “The Force tests your greatest weakness, before leading you to the one that’s meant to be yours. I’m sorry that you only get a hand-me-down. You should still try to connect with it.” He turns the crystal around in his hand, and looks at her expectantly. She takes out her own crystal, sends a greeting through the Force, until it floats up above her hand, spinning slowly. “Close your eyes and open your mind. The crystal will speak to you, if you listen. Don’t try to push it, just let it climb on its own.”

She watches him slowly concentrate, feels his mind brush up against the crystal cautiously. She doesn’t like starting with this, there's so much he should learn before fighting, but she won’t risk having him defenceless out in the world. Hopefully she’ll also get a chance to teach him what it means to be a Jedi outside of violence. Hopefully she’ll get a chance to remember herself. 

She’s endlessly grateful for how easily this all comes to him, when she feels the crystal extend a cautious greeting and rise slowly to settle above his palm. She wouldn’t know where to start with someone who didn’t just instinctually get everything she throws at him. It gives her a new respect for Kanan, because as much as Ezra is strong and curious, he doesn’t have anything like the immense power rolling off Luke in waves. She’s sure she’ll run into problems later, when she’s teaching him to control it, but at least Obi-Wan has some experience with that. 

For now, she gently presses the crystal mount from her old saber into his free hand, and explains how to feel out the correct parts, make them fit together how they want to, while still keeping in mind what it needs to function properly. She runs her hands besides his, above the pile between them, and slowly the pieces start to separate, some moving towards her, others towards him, some hovering in the middle, uncertain, before finally choosing their place. She’s never done this before, either working with pieces carefully chosen by Huyang, or with her newest sabers, building them with whatever she could find, replacing and improving what she could over years. This is better, in some ways at least, she thinks. They each end up with parts of her old saber, and Vader’s, and the ones Luke brought, all mixed up together. That way the weapons will be connected to each other, and it might make it easier to teach him, to fight alongside him when the time comes. Surprised, she feels the open, chaotic way of communication they’d started to develop solidify into a single thread, along the path made by the floating parts between them. It’s not a proper bond, not yet at least, just a fresh shoot from which it will bloom, if tended to. 

She focuses, and her weapon takes shape, the outside mostly unchanged from how it looked before, but it still feels completely new, and old at the same time, with her crystal settling into its new home. She turns her attention back on Luke and guides him through the movements, making sure all the mechanics inside line up properly. It forms without problems, at least until he tries to slide on the outer casing, and they both wince at the sound of bone scraping against metal.

“I figured it would be better to carve it out later, than have it come out too big,” he says, and she can’t help but agree. They work on the casing until it fits perfectly, and she shows him how to add grooves to the outside to improve the grip. 

After that they throw themselves into training wholeheartedly. She doesn’t have much left to teach him about flying without leaving the planet, so she tries to get him to build decent shields as quickly as possible. That’s where they first hit a wall. It doesn’t surprise her in the least, that he’d have trouble reeling in all those twirling rays of sunshine around him and tucking them away neatly, but she insists he tries every day, because that's the most pressing issue. He doesn’t struggle with the physical aspects of using the force at all, at least the easy exercises with which they start, whether it be controlling objects, making his body move further or faster, or the basic Shii-cho katas she shows him. She has to untangle them in her mind from the changes she’s made over the years, adapting them to Jar’kai, only traces of the original moves left in her own style that she developed to fight when vastly outnumbered, mostly against blasters. She has to ask Obi-Wan for a demonstration more than once, and listen to Anakin’s grumbling about the pointlessness of such an outdated form and how she could at least work in some Djem So. She’s considered it herself, skipping all the ridgid forms and jumping straight into the chaotic mishmash most effective against the empire. But that’s not the point. She’s training him to be a Jedi, not a weapon for the rebellion, and one day, force-willing, he’ll have a padawan of his own, and they should get the chance to choose their own favorite style too. It’s not fair that he has the burden of carrying on the entire Jedi tradition on his shoulders, but it’s inevitable, and she has no doubt he’ll be a master of any form he chooses. 

That still leaves the issue of his shields, which are slowly rising up, stone by stone, still full of holes that let through blinding flashes of light. For now, she can fill in the gaps herself, as long as they’re close, and she’s confident they will hold even if they’re forced to leave, and that’ll have to be enough, at least for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter i guess, but things had to happen before we can move on to the more exciting stuff. It's also relatively short, as are the next few, so I'm gonna be posting a bit more frequently.


	16. A change of plans

For now turns out to be a lot shorter than Ahsoka expected. She’s grateful she didn’t stall any further, but she hoped to teach Luke a lot more before his first real test. He’d left training earlier that day, wanted to go meet his friends in the afternoon, and she’s sitting at home with Obi-Wan and Anakin, evening slowly turning into night when they hear the sound of a speeder engine quickly approaching. Before she can do anything Luke runs inside, eyes and hair wild. He’s clearly agitated, and about to say something, when he stops in the middle of the room and looks around in confusion.

“Why is it so cold here? How did you afford an air conditioner?” He finally notices Anakin then, and stutters, even more confused. “Who is that? Is this your friend who’s sick? He feels… wrong.” 

Before either she or Obi-Wan can say anything, Anakin answers, more offended than angry.

“I am your father, and you will show me respect.”

There’s no movement in the room, except for Luke’s eyes jumping from Anakin to the matching exasperated expressions on Ahsoka’s and Obi-Wan’s faces. He finally speaks again, cautiously.

“No, you’re not. My father is dead, right Ben? That’s what you told me,” he turns to Ahsoka, “and so did you.”

They speak at the same time.

“In some ways, he is,” says Obi-Wan.

“I technically never said he was dead,” Ahsoka tries to explain herself, then shoots Obi-Wan an angry look. That’s not gonna help him understand anything. “I’m sorry Luke, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

“Why is he in chains?”

“He… He’s been working for the empire for a long time now. He’s not the man who trained me anymore, he was made to do some awful things, and for now we’re all safer like this.”

“Don’t infantilize me,” Anakin says, “I made my choices.”

“The wrong choices,” Obi-Wan grumbles, and she sighs, getting up to give Luke her chair. She crouches in front of him, trying to make sense of the tangled emotions he’s leaking into the Force.

“This is a lot to take in,” he says, “you realise this sounds like a bad prank? Next you’ll be telling me i have a long lost twin sister.”

A profoundly awkward silence falls over the room.

“No. No, you’re joking right?” 

Ahsoka doesn’t know how to answer that, but thankfully Obi-Wan steps in, a faint trace of amusement in his voice.

“You know Luke, there’s a lesson here for you. Sometimes when you have a thought that seems absurd and not entirely your own, it can be the Force, trying to show you the truth.”

He doesn’t answer, just drops his head into his arms, and stays like that for a few minutes that stretch like hours. She rubs his shoulder gently, sending him calm and comfort until he evens out, stops shaking in the Force. 

“You came here to tell us something, didn’t you?” She asks, once he seems more stable. His head shoots up suddenly.

“Yes. I went into town today. The empire is here,” he says, the earlier agitation back in his voice.

“That’s it? I know that, they’ve been here a long time. They’re pretty much everywhere by this point.”

“Not like this,” he shakes his head, “they’re establishing a base, taking higher taxes, buying slaves from the Hutts.” She looks over to Anakin then, surprised. There isn’t that same flash of white hot anger she’d come to expect from him every time slavery was mentioned when she was younger, just resignation, and a fair bit of guilt.

“Slaves? For the mines?” She clarifies, because as horrible as it is, it’s pretty common, and a big part of her work with the rebellion was stopping that.

“No, I heard they’re building something, but I don’t know what. They’re only buying skilled mechanics, and taking droids from every household.” 

She has her suspicions, confirmed by how closed off Anakin suddenly becomes, sweeping all his emotions out of the room and locking them behind smooth black walls.

“You have to leave,” Luke presses, when the silence drags on.

“I can’t leave you, you’re my padawan,” she says, slowly.

“But you can’t stay here! I know you’re with the rebellion,” he answers, surprising her. She’d expected him to have his suspicions, with all her secrecy and blatant distaste for the empire, but she didn’t think he’d be so sure already. She nods at him sadly, and feels it when he figures it out.

“You mean… No, I can’t leave.”

“You knew this day would come.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d have more than a week to prepare. My aunt and uncle would never agree.”

“They knew this day would come too,” Obi-Wan steps in.

“What? You mean they knew about all this?”

“Not all of it, but they did know about the Jedi. That’s why your uncle doesn’t trust me. He thinks it puts you in danger. And he’s right. The Force chose you, and you have chosen it’s path, but they did not. You’ll be putting them in danger by staying.” Ahsoka shoots Obi-Wan an annoyed look at that, because he’s completely right, but there are more sensitive ways to break it to him.

“Why? The empire never cared about us before,” Luke asks.

“Because the Force has awakened in you, and it will make you a target,” This time it’s Anakin who answers, starling everyone in the room, and she might not trust his motivations, but for now they have the same goal. “You are more powerful than almost anyone else and the Emperor will try to find you and get you to join him.”

“I’m sorry to put you in this position Luke,” Ahsoka adds, before he can get lost in all his questions again, “but they’re right. We can’t stay here.” 

Another tense silence spreads through the room, and Luke runs his hands through his hair nervously, before answering, voice detached and empty.

“I understand. Can I say goodbye, at least?”

“Of course. We’ll pick you up at dawn,” she says, then leads him out to his bike, standing there until he disappears on the horizon.

“I think I know what they’re building. I had a vision,” she says to Obi-Wan, once she comes back inside. “It’s a weapon, stronger than anything I’ve heard off.” Both of them look at Anakin expectantly, but he gives them nothing, locking himself away stubbornly, only watching as they start to pack. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vader: yeah sure I’ll help you talk to him if it means we’re finally leaving this shithole of a planet.


	17. A mission

Ezra has to admit it’s not a bad plan. They’re hitting a relief ship in neutral space, Sabine and Zeb have gone to get the supplies, and he’s sneaking through corridors towards the passenger quarters. Kanan is back near the Ghost with Hera, supposedly to cover their escape if needed, but he knows it’s really because he still doesn’t trust himself to go back into the field. 

No, the plan is fine, it’s the goal that bothers him. Isn’t the whole point of having people on the inside, you know, leaving them inside? As far as he knows Alderaan’s involvement with the rebellion isn’t any closer to being proven than before, which is why they have to go through this whole farce with the kidnapping, attacking the ship in space, shooting without actually hitting anyone or anything important. He has no idea what other reason there could be to get the princess out. He turns the last corner before her quarters, and immediately starts getting shot at. Thankfully stormtroopers aren’t great at hitting anything important, even when they’re trying, so he deflects the bolts without any issues, hitting the two soldiers guarding her door. He knocks and walks in, finds Leia pacing nervously, holding a blaster, half hidden behind her back. It’s sleek and expensive and a little bit flashy, exactly what you’d expect a princess to shoot you with. He's never seen anything like it, they tend to use whatever’s cheap and easy to replace, the only other person he could picture with something like that is Hondo. 

“Why are there troopers here?” He asks, because he can’t get distracted by weapons right now, even though the handle looks pearl-encrusted. “I thought this was supposed to be a civilian ship.” 

“They insisted on escorting me, boarded right before we left and wouldn’t let me leave the room to let you know.” 

“How many are there?” 

“I saw around fifteen, but there could be more. They have tie fighters docked on the other side of the ship, too.”

He swears, then lets the others know through his comm.

“Alright, lets go,” he says, but she shoves the blaster into a bag and the bag into his hands.

“You know, I don’t think they’re gonna believe you’re being kidnapped if you take an overnight bag.”

“That’s why you’ll be carrying it. And I’m a bit insulted that you think I’d actually pack like that.” 

He finally takes a closer look. The bag is open, overflowing with credits and jewelry, exactly what one would expect a rebel thief to take, at least on the surface, though it’s probably hiding something underneath. He has to admit she’s way better at this than she seems. That’s probably the point though. 

He throws the bag over his shoulder, and with his other hand presses his own blaster against her back. 

“After you, your highness.”

They manage to get through most of the ship without any obstacles, only stumble on a lone stormtrooper right before they reach the ghost. He looks at them in shock, then lifts his wrist to call for backup. Ezra’s about to just shoot him and get it over with, when Leia speaks.

“You don’t need to call for reinforcements. Surely you can take a teenager by yourself.”

“I… I don’t need to call for reinforcements,” the trooper sputters in that familiar monotone voice. Was that? No it can’t be, surely he’d have felt it if… He tries to look inside her mind, and hits a wall, almost invisible, perfectly disguised as emptiness. His blaster slides down her back in shock, and she steps on his foot, hard. She’s right, this really isn’t the time to lose focus, and he throws the trooper against the wall with a wave of his hand, knocking him out. 

They finally get to the Ghost, and find Zeb, Sabine and Kanan, trying to fight off a dozen troopers. So that’s why the rest of the ship was so empty. 

“Took you long enough,” Sabine shouts at him, and he shoves Leia towards her.

“Get her inside, I’ll handle this.” He jumps in front of them, deflecting blaster bolts with his saber. The troopers are falling, one by one, but they don’t have time for this, and he can hear more armored steps running towards them. He tries to focus but he’s too distracted by worrying about Kanan, by how angry he is that they ended up walking right into a trap, so he grabs onto that instead, folds it all into a ball and throws it at the imps, knocking them out. He can feel Kanan’s disappointment, and he knows he shouldn’t give into his anger, they’ve talked about it, but he’d rather get yelled at once they’re out of here, safe. They quickly file onto the ship, take off before the troopers can get up. He runs into the cockpit, and sees ties detach from the ship, starting to chase them. Someone’s already shooting at them, probably Sabine, since she’s the only one missing from the room. 

“Zeb, get on the guns, everyone else out, I need to focus,” Hera shouts, turning the ship sharply to avoid getting hit, throwing everyone who’s standing against the wall. He has to admit it is a bit crowded. “You’ll be bunking with Sabine for the trip,” she adds to Leia, with a much calmer tone. 

“I’ll help you get settled in!” Ezra almost shouts. Great, now they’ll think he acts insane in front of every girl his age, but he needs to ask her if she knows. He can’t believe he didn’t feel it when they met before, or now, until he heard that familiar power curl around her words. Her shielding has to be impeccable to disguise any sign of the Force in her, and he has no idea how anyone could do something like that without even knowing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who finally showed up. I can't wait for the gang to meet up, but I'm gonna make you wait a bit longer, since I won't really have time to post as frequently next week. Next chapter on tuesday.


	18. A princess

Leia lets herself be manhandled across the ship, passing a very confused looking 3PO and mischievous as always R2 on the way, glad that they made it onto the ship on their own. She’s shoved into a very colorful cabin that smells faintly of paint, and Ezra shuts the door behind them, immediately asking.

“You’re Force-sensitive! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m not,” she answers. She already knew they were… chaotic, as far as rebel cells go, but she didn’t expect them to be delusional as well. She sits down on the bed to avoid falling with how the ship is lurching from side to side. 

“What you did back there, with the trooper? That was a mind trick. I can’t believe you did it without even knowing, it took me like a year to manage those.”

“You’re imagining things, that was just basic psychology,” she says but he just ignores it and continues rambling.

“And I didn’t feel anything from you, your shields must be amazing.”

“Or maybe the reason you didn’t feel anything is because there’s nothing to feel.”

“Alright, if you don’t believe me, let’s try this.” He turns around, digs something out of her bag, from where he’d thrown in on a side table. “Which hand is it in?”

“How should i know? And that necklace is ceremonial so I suggest you put it down befo…” she trails off, looks up at him, at his shocked expression and his two closed fists with absolutely nothing peeking out to suggest it is in fact the ancient necklace of the next in line for the Alderaanian throne that he’s holding. She just knew it was, was suddenly reminded of her mother giving it to her when she was a child, felt all the same discomfort she did whenever someone touched it. 

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she says, even though she has to admit it's strange.

“Oh come on, how would you know otherwise.”

“It was at the top of the bag.”

“No it wasn’t.” He’s right, she’d never have been so careless with it.

Then, without warning, he extends his arm and drops it on the floor. She throws out her hand automatically to catch it, but it’s too far, there’s no way she’ll make it in time and then her fingers curl like she’s already holding it, and it stops inches above the floor, drops down slowly, gently.

“I can’t believe you did that after I told you it was important.”

“Don’t worry, I would have caught it if you hadn’t,” and, as if to prove it, he reaches out again, and the necklace floats towards her. She snatches it out of the air and puts it on to keep it safe.

“Alright. Let's say I believe you. Now what?” 

“Well now you need training,” he answers, “do you have anything less sacred you could practice on?”

She still isn’t sure if this isn’t him playing a trick on her, but curiosity is taking over, and she really did feel something guide her fingers, hold the necklace from afar. She digs around her bag, takes out a pair of balled up socks. 

“You know, when I was carrying your bag all the way through that ship I expected you had like weapons or intel in there, not spare socks.”

“How would I have intel, when I don’t even know why I’m here.” Her father had told her she’d be joining the ghost crew, but he’d wanted to explain the details in person. By the time he got there the ship was already flooded with imperial soldiers, and they didn’t get a chance to talk in private.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know anything either. We’ll learn more once we meet up with Ahsoka.”

And, as if on command, the flying smooths out, the familiar hum of hyperspace reaching them through the walls. 

They kneel down on the floor, the socks between them, and he tries to tell her how to move them with her mind, but it’s very clear he’s never had to explain it before. Still, she manages to get them to shift the slightest bit, before Sabine comes in and kicks him out. 

She starts undoing her armor on one side, rolling up her sleeve and craning her head to look at a burn on the back of her arm, right above her elbow.

“It’s just a graze,” she says, when she catches Leia staring, “they got me between the plates.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t get shot at very often.” She remembers when it happened. Sabine was shoving her onto the ship, back turned to the battle, and she’d felt her hand tense on her shoulder, jumping from the pain. “Let me help,” she adds, when she sees her wince, twisting her arm to apply bacta from a tub she dug out of a drawer. She sits next to her on the bed, pulling her hand into her lap and spreading the gel gently on the wound. It really isn’t serious, and she can see the redness fading at the edges already, Sabine relaxing next to her as the pain dissipates. “You know, I’ve never seen Mandalorian armor in person, only pictures in history books.”

“Yeah, that’s where most of it is, these days,” Sabine answers, something between sadness and nostalgia tinting her voice. “I hope it lives up to your expectations, princess,” she adds with a smile, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“Well it’s certainly more colorful. And please, just call me Leia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we gonna do a bit of Leia/Sabine? I don’t know yet. This isn’t really a shippy fic at all, but Sabine is the most lesbian character in all of Star Wars and I will die on that hill. Then there’s the inherent romance of removing armor, not to mention the princess/knight dynamic and… Well, I guess we’ll see what happens.


	19. A goodbye

Ahsoka goes to get the ship an hour before dawn, because they can’t risk anyone seeing Anakin if they stumble on any stormtroopers walking across the desert. They load the last fifteen years of Obi-Wan’s life onto the ship, all tucked away in a single bag. The dewback wouldn’t fit, so he writes a note to Owen and Beru, saying they can take it or sell it, as well as the vaporator, the house and everything left in it. They arrive at Luke’s home just as the sun starts to rise, and he’s waiting for them with his aunt, his uncle nowhere to be found. Obi-Wan goes to them, speaks for a few minutes, probably explaining as much as he can. She watches from a distance, standing on the ramp of her ship, keeping one eye on Anakin inside, watching Luke be hugged tightly by his aunt with the other. Just as they’re about to leave, Owen comes out and hugs him too, despite the anger obvious on his face. Once Obi-Wan and Luke are back on the ship, his aunt looks towards her, and she just nods, sending a wave of comfort that she won’t be able to read consciously, but should still take hold somewhere deep in her mind, and Beru throws her a tense smile in response, before going back inside.

They’re about to leave when she hears a speeder approaching, and a trooper appears. She jumps out on the sand, because there’s no way he won’t find this suspicious, and he lifts up his wrist to call for backup, just as she expected. She squeezes her fist, crushing his comm from afar. He starts shooting at her and she deflects the bolts until one comes at the perfect angle so she can send it towards the weak spot in the armor, where the helmet meets the neck. She feels that faint flicker of the Force that’s present in all life extinguish as he drops to the ground, and she blinks out the smallest of mournful apologies, like she always does. She used to feel horrified by this, how used to it she’s become, but by now it’s nothing more than routine. It’s times like this she almost misses the war. When all their enemies were machines, it had all felt a bit like a simulation, like training, at least compared to now. Only droids everywhere, not much different than the ones used for lessons in the temple, or so she thought in the beginning, before she saw how much damage, how much death they brought, without any capacity for regret.

But she couldn't risk the trooper bringing more soldiers to Luke’s home, and she destroys his tracker, throwing his body over the bike and jamming the accelerator, sending him out into the desert, so he’ll be found far from here with no log of his previous location. Luke’s family must have heard the shots, she can see them peeking through the windows, but thankfully they don’t come out to investigate, and she runs inside the ship, taking off quickly. 

They run into a new problem as soon as they breach the atmosphere. It’s not a full blockade exactly, just a single star destroyer and several smaller ships, but it’s enough to cause them serious trouble. An imperial transmission comes through, asking for her ship’s codes and business and thankfully Obi-Wan has the presence of mind to force Anakin to sleep before he can say anything. She doesn’t answer. She hasn’t been in contact with the rebellion for long enough to where her stolen imperial codes are definitely outdated, just blocks that channel and starts running, staying far enough from the star destroyer to avoid their tractor beam, while dodging the ties that immediately start chasing them. 

“Luke, I need you on the guns,” she shouts.

“But there’s people in these ships,” he answers, from where he’s sitting frozen in the co-pilot seat. 

“Yeah, and those people are currently shooting at us. We can have a discussion about the ethics of all this when we get out of here alive.” She hates it, throwing him into the horrors of war so suddenly, but they really don’t have time for this. He starts shooting, destroying the ties one by one, and she wonders absentmindedly if she’s taught him enough so he can recognize that spark of life going out with each pilot. They’re working decently well together, but he clearly doesn’t have the experience needed to hit moving targets while you’re a moving target as well, and Obi-Wan steps in, guiding him with quiet words and gentle nudges, leaving Anakin to wake up behind them. As good as her guns are, the shields leave a lot to be desired, and they’re taking a beating.

Another call beeps from the console.

“This is spectre two, do you read me?” 

“Kriff.” She’d forgotten they were meeting today. “This isn’t a great time.”

“Yeah, same here. Where’s the rendezvous?”

“We just lost it,” she answers.

“What do you mean you lost it?”

“It means we need a new one, fast. And it can’t be the base. Or any populated planet. And I’d rather not do this out in the open.”

“That doesn’t leave many options. Why not the base?” It’s Kanan this time.

“I’ll tell you when we meet,” Ahsoka says, though she probably won’t even have to say anything once he sees her new crew. “I really have to jump so if anyone has any ideas, now would be the time. We’re in the Arkanis sector.”

“What about the medical station? It’s halfway between us,” says Sabine, voice crackling through two comms, the Ghost’s internal one, and the long distance transmission. 

“Are you crazy? They found us immediately last time we went there,” Zeb says, words clipped, timed with the shots she can hear in the background.

“Yeah, cause Chopper turned the whole thing on,” Sabine answers, “we won’t do that again.” 

“You have a fuel leak in the sublight engine,” Anakin announces with a bored tone, like she can’t hear the alarm herself.

“I’m gonna need a decision here!” Ahsoka shouts, and Hera answers with a tired sigh.

“The station will have to do. I’m sending you the coordinates.” 

They manage to get an opening and jump. The journey isn’t long, barely an hour, but it still feels longer, Luke distant and sad, unwilling or at least not ready to talk. There’s not much she can do about the damage to the ship from the inside, they’ll have to land fast once they arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m considering bumping the rating up to teen, on account of all the manslaughter, but to be fair there’s also a lot of that in rebels, and that’s aimed at literal children so idk. Let me know what you think. 
> 
> New schedule: tuesdays, fridays and sundays (yeah I know it's not friday yet, it's more of a general guideline than an actual schedule)
> 
> And you can find me on tumblr under [transmalewife](https://transmalewife.tumblr.com/)


	20. A reunion

They drop out of hyperspace in front of the old medical station, but it doesn’t look nearly as abandoned as it was supposed to be. The hangar is full of mismatched ships, mostly civilian, the lights are on, and she can see flashes of color in some of the viewports. For a second she fears the Ghost beat them here, as did the empire, and the lights are a firefight, but then a line opens to the inside of the station, loud music floods her ship and she realises what she’s seeing are club lights, of all things.

“Hello, hello, hello,” says a voice she hasn’t heard in years.

“Is that?” Asks Obi-Wan, with an astonished tone.

“Hondo? Apparently,” she answers with a sigh.

“I can’t believe he’s still around.”

“Yeah, and still causing problems for us.”

“You do realise that I can hear you, right?” Hondo interrupts, apparently bored of listening to their conversation, “I would shoot you, but your voices seem familiar. Could it really be my old friend Kenobi?”

“Listen Hondo, I’d love to catch up, but our ship is falling apart,” he answers, and she’s grateful that he didn’t antagonize Hondo any further, but falling apart is a bit harsh. “Do you have a less... crowded docking bay?”

“Of course, come around the other side. Bay 5.”

She sends a quick message to the Ghost, telling them where to find them, so they’re not surprised when they arrive, and that they should keep Leia hidden on the ship, then disembarks to find Hondo waiting for them, flanked by two armed pirates. For all his talk about friendship, he’s never been the trusting kind.

“My, my, if it isn’t little Ahsoka Tano,” he says once he sees her and she feels like someone should congratulate her on not pointing out that she’s significantly taller than him now. Anakin must be rubbing off on her, although she has noticed he’s also a lot taller than he used to be. 

“Hello Hondo. I must admit I’m impressed, last I heard you needed to be rescued from prison,” she says instead.

“Well, after all that nastiness, I decided it might be time to settle down, retire. Piracy just isn’t what it used to be, but you can still have some fun making profit legally.” 

She highly doubts anything legal has happened on this station since he moved in, but she gets why he missed having a base, a home, and the atmosphere here is very similar to his old camp on Florrum.

“How did you manage to hide this from the empire?” she asks.

“I think they just decided we weren’t worth the effort. Some patrols used to stop by for drinks, but they always seem to get the most awful hangovers,” he drawls in that dramatic tone of his.

“I wonder why that is,” Obi-Wan says, from where he’s standing in the door to her ship, hiding Anakin and Luke.

“Slander! I invite you into my humble abode and this is how you repay me. I always treat my guests with the utmost respect, the best liquor in the area, and, I admit, occasionally poison. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan answers, a smile playing on his lips, “Still, this isn’t ideal. Are there any troopers on board right now?”

“No. Well. Not live ones,” Hondo answers, and she laughs, exhausted. Obi-Wan is right, but it’s not like they have a lot of choices. They need to fix the fuel leak before they can go anywhere. 

“Let’s wait here for the Ghost crew, and we’ll figure it out later,” she says.

“The Ghost? Then you must know my dear friend Ezra,” Hondo says. “Is there anything you need? I’m always glad to help my friends… For a price of course.”

“Of course,” she repeats with a smile, “We need fuel, and tools.”

He sends his goons away to get the supplies, and circles her curiously as she tries to assess the damage to her ship. He’s clearly trying to figure out what Obi-Wan is guarding, so she calls out to Luke, hoping to throw him off. Besides, he is an amazing mechanic and she’ll need the help. They manage to fix it without much trouble, and join Hondo where he’s talking to Obi-Wan over a tray of food and drinks, Anakin locked inside the ship, and thankfully silent. He never did like pirates, so she’s not surprised he doesn’t come out to say hello, and she’s kept the engine hatch open from the outside so he won’t be able to start the ship. She warns Luke not to drink anything. Poisoned or not, Weequay liquor is deathly strong, and she needs everyone focused, but the food seems safe enough, so she eats some fruit.

Soon after that the ghost arrives, and she huddles with Kanan and Hera to discuss their plans, sending Ezra to help Obi-Wan keep Hondo too busy to eavesdrop. 

“I have Vader,” she whispers. 

“What do you mean? You actually managed to kill him?” Kanan says, and she shushes him.

“No, he’s alive, and currently harmless. The only reason I don’t have half the empire on my back is they think we’re both dead. If anyone saw him, that’d be the end of that.”

“You’re right, we can’t stay here, and risking leading them back to the base is out of the question. We could try to find an abandoned moon, or something like that, but it’ll take time to scout it,” he answers. 

They both look at Hera expectantly, and she sighs, rubs her hands over her face, before speaking. 

“We can stay in hyperspace for the time being. We lost the Phantom, so if you dock your ship to the Ghost, and if we avoid sublight flying as much as possible, our fuel reserves should last for a few weeks of long jumps across the galaxy. I don’t see any other option, and it won’t work for long, but it should give us the time we need to figure this out.” 

They manage to haggle down Hondo’s price for the fuel and parts from outrageous to almost fair, but there’s no point making an enemy out of him. Having a place that’s acknowledged, but largely ignored by the empire, yet still sympathetic to the rebellion could come in handy later. Ahsoka quickly attaches her ship to the Ghost, and Hera plots a route through rarely used hyperspace lanes, to some forgotten and half-empty side of the galaxy. The journey should take a few days, and she sighs, trying to center herself, before leading her mismatched group down into the Ghost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hondo my beloved...
> 
> Also the fact this is now 20 chapters long is insane


	21. A pair

Leia finds herself in the dining room of the Ghost, the only place except for the cargo hold that can fit all the current passengers. She spent the last few hours talking with Sabine, who’s nice enough, and she gets why she can’t be seen with the rebels, but still, she’s getting impatient to find out more. A tall togruta climbs down the ladder in the corridor that joins the ship docked above to this one.

“Agent Tano, it’s nice to finally meet you. My father speaks highly of your work,” Leia says, with that same official tone she uses for all high ranking rebel officers, before she can figure out exactly how stuck up they are.

“You can just call me Ahsoka, and it’s nice to meet you too. I know you must be curious why I called you away from your duties.”

“I have my suspicions,” she starts, then trails off when two cuffed black boots appear from the hatch in the ceiling, lowering until the emperor's right hand comes fully into view, followed by someone who must be general Kenobi, despite looking much older than the holos she’s seen. Vader looks a lot less intimidating with a crack in his mask, four pairs of cuffs on his limbs, and being moved with the Force like an inanimate object, but still a vague discomfort floods her senses. 

“You know, I don’t think my father would have let you kidnap me if he knew the emperor's dog was here,” she says, trying to mask her anxiety with sarcasm.

“That conniving traitor is not your father. I am,” Vader answers, leaving her at a loss for words. She’d never thought him capable of joking, but this must be that, right?

“You couldn’t let us break it gently to this one?” Ahsoka says, annoyance bordering on anger in her voice. 

“You mean it’s true?” Leia asks, and when no one confirms it, adds “Wait, what do you mean this one?”

A blond boy slides down the ladder then. 

“She means me. My name is Luke and I’m your brother,” he says with a shy smile.

After that the group erupts into confused chatter, until Kanan starts to set out food, enlisting the droids to help him. Vader’s one visible eye glazes over when he sees them.

“Artoo?” He asks, weakly, and the droid beeps a confused greeting. “Artoo it’s me… Anakin,” his voice catches on the last word, but R2 doesn’t seem to mind, approaching and letting Vader pat him gently, only to chirp excitedly when he notices Ahsoka.

“Hello Artooie. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it,” She turns to Leia then, and says “I imagine you have a lot of questions.”

She can only laugh at that. She’s way past questions. Her father’s droid, that he’s had at least her entire life, apparently knows and likes both the rebellions most active agent, and the leader of the empire’s army. Only her father is not her father, Vader is, and Vader is not Vader either, but the legendary hero with no fear. And she also has a brother. Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that apparently she’s Force sensitive.

“You’re going to train me to be a Jedi, aren’t you?” She asks, because she’s been thinking about it since her conversation with Ezra, and it’s the only logical option for her being pulled from her position on Alderaan.

“Yes. Only if you want to, of course.” Ahsoka answers, a bit confused. “How did you know?”

“Ezra told-” she starts, but he interrupts her, speaking with his mouth full.

“She did a mind trick on a trooper! She didn’t even realise.”

“What!?” ask four voices around the room, Kanan, Ahsoka, Vader and Kenobi turning to gawk at her. 

“I’m still not sure if that’s what it was. It’s really not that hard to use a stormtrooper’s ego to get him to him drop his guard,” she answers, a bit defensively.

“No, I think you did,” Kanan says, with an impressed smile, “I’ve seen you do it before, when you forced that officer to give you his shuttle on Lothal.”

Something clicks in her mind then, reminding her of all the times she managed to manipulate her way of some tricky situation with nothing but her words. She’d grown up on her father’s stories of Jedi as near-invincible warriors, which only made her more unsure about this whole thing, with how different it is from her usual methods, but if this is also part of the Force, it might come in handy. 

“Alright. I’d like to learn from you, Master Jedi,” she says to Ahsoka, the title clunky on her lips, spoken for the first time, vaguely remembered from what her father had told her. Ahsoka nods with a warm smile, and says.

“Great. We should all get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll start your training tomorrow.”

They all file into their respective rooms then, and she follows Sabine to hers, listening for what feels like hours to her quiet breathing. She’s always had trouble falling asleep in unfamiliar places, and her mind is spinning with all this new information. After a while she realises that laying in darkness is pointless, and she slips out of the room quietly, wandering through the ship, ending up at the ladder to the cargo hold. It’s far enough from where everyone else is sleeping that she won’t wake anyone, or at least that’s how she explains to herself how she felt pulled towards it. 

She finds Luke there, practicing with a white lightsaber. She watches quietly for a while, admiring the sweeping motions he moves through until he turns around and stops, clearly startled.

“Oh, it’s just you. I didn’t hear you. Or feel you, for that matter.”

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“Well, all other Jedi, even… our father, I can feel them in the Force, but with you, I can’t find anything.”

“Ezra mentioned something about shields.”

“Oh yeah, that would explain it. I’m terrible with those.”

“How long have you been learning?”

“About a week,” he says, and she smiles.

“That’s nothing. But still, you’ve got a head start on me. I think when my father taught me to always keep my emotions in check, to not let on my real intentions, it might have, I don’t know, translated into the shields.”

He nods with a sage expression, a bit out of place on his childish face, then smiles brightly again.

“Maybe you could teach me!” He exclaims, his excitement infectious.

“Sure, if you teach me how to use that,” she says, pointing at his saber.

“Well, I don’t know much yet, but I can show you the basics.” He hands her the weapon. “Be careful, though, it could definitely cut through the floor.”

She takes it from him, rolls the warm bone handle in her hand, before igniting it, moving it clumsily through the air.

“How does it work,” she asks, because there are few things this small that could seriously damage a ship’s outer hull by accident.

“There’s a crystal inside. Ahsoka says they’re rare, that every Jedi used to get one from a planet called Ilum, but now it’s blockaded by the empire.”

“Didn’t there used to be thousands of Jedi? What happened to their sabers?”

“They were destroyed, I think. Or the crystals were turned to the dark side. That's what happened to mine, but then she cleaned it, I guess. That’s why it’s pure white now. It used to be a whole ritual, kids would have a special challenge before they found their crystal, and it would be perfectly matched to them, but now we just have to make do with scraps. I think that’s why I can't connect to this one.”

“What do you mean, connect? Isn’t this just a weapon?”

“Not really. Or at least it shouldn’t be. It’s supposed to be an extension of you in the Force,” he says, noncommittally, like he’s repeating someone else’s words, “but I don’t really feel that. I wish we could get our own crystals. I have no idea where we’ll find one for you.” 

“What if we split this one,” she says, half-joking, but the idea doesn’t feel like it’s entirely her own.

“I don’t think anything could cut through it, except maybe another lightsaber, but that would probably just destroy it, and us with it. They’re almost alive, you know, at least in the Force.”

“Well maybe the Force is how we could do it,” she pushes further, still feeling like something is dictating the words to her. “Can you show me?” She asks, handing him the extinguished saber.

He closes his eyes and disassembles the handle. He takes the crystal out, and floats it gently until it settles in her palm. It feels a bit cold, like a glass pebble, and she wraps her fingers around it, closing her eyes. Suddenly she feels something, the tiniest heartbeat.

“It’s singing,” she says, surprised, “it’s so sad and old. But also excited? I think we can actually do this.”

She tries to remember what Ezra told her earlier, reaches out to lift the crystal in the air. It’s easier than it was with the socks, like she’s not doing all the work, just guiding it where it already wants to go. It settles hanging at eye level, and she places her hand flat in front of it. Luke does the same, across from her, the faint white glow reflected in his eyes. Her fingers curl, all on their own, as do his, and for a moment nothing happens. Then the crystal shifts slightly, realigning between them, starts glowing, brighter and brighter, and a crack appears in the middle, almost blinding. She pulls harder, and suddenly, with a loud bang it snaps, almost perfectly in half. 

Every Force user on the ship wakes up at once and hurries to the cargo bay, followed closely by the rest, who might not have felt the satisfying snap in the Force, like cracking your neck after a hard day, but still heard it and felt the ship shudder. They find the twins on opposite sides of the cargo bay, lying where they were thrown on the floor, matching exhausted smiles on their faces, matching crystals still glowing faintly in their palms, the bright white split evenly into a warm yellow for Luke and a deep purple for Leia. Ahsoka appears last, dragging Vader behind her. 

Leia shakes her head, trying to regain some control, and suddenly she gets what Luke said earlier, about feeling people in the Force, because she can feel him, just as proud and excited as she is, and less clearly, the matching surprise from everyone else gathered around them.

“I have no idea how you even managed that, but we can deal with it when it’s not the middle of the night,” Ahsoka says. “And help you build a lightsaber, apparently,” she adds to Leia, her tone exasperated, but her eyes warm and the slightest bit proud.

“You know, sometimes I’m really glad there’s only one of you,” Kanan whispers to Ezra, shaking his head.

“Now can you please go to sleep before you blow up my ship,” Hera says, already halfway up the ladder. “You do realise I’ve been dealing with two of you for years now, right?” She adds to Kanan, once he follows her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a longer chapter!
> 
> And yes, I know rare lightsaber colors are pretentious, but they’re also really fucking cool.


End file.
